f 


1 


SEP  2  0  1919 

BALED  HAY. 


k  Drier  Book  than  Walt  Whitman's  "  Leaves  o'  Grass." 


Author  of  "Bill  Nye  and  Boomerang,"  "Forty  Liars  and 
Other  Lies,"  "Goose-Neck  Smith,"  "How  Came 
Your  Eye  Out,  and  Your  Nose  Not 
Skun?"  Etc.,  Etc.,  Etc. 


Heap  cold  day  when  Melican  man  no  lite  em  blook.-~AH  SIN, 


BY 


Illustrated  by  F.  OPPER,  of  "  Puck r 


CHICAGO,  NEW  YORK,  SAN  FRANCISCO : 


BELFORD,  CLARKE  &  CO 


1889. 


Copyright, 
1884.  • 
Belford,  Clarke  &  Ca 


DEDICATION. 


gjcr       WLiU : 

Who  has  courteously  and  heroically  laughed  at  my  feeble 
and  emaciated  jokes,  even  when  she  did  not  feel  like 
it ;    who  has  again  and  again  started  up  and 
agitated  successfully  the  flagging  and  reluc- 
tant applause,  who  has  courageously  held 
my  coat  through  this  trying  ordeal, 

and  who,  even  now,  as  I  write  i 
this,   is  in   the   front  yard 

warning  people  to  keep 
•      off  the  premises  until 
I   have  another 
lucid  interval, 

This  Volume  is  Affectionately  Inscribed, 

BY  THE 

AUTHOR. 


PIAZZA  TO  THE  THIRD  VOLUME. 


There  can  really  be  no  excuse  for  this  last  book 
of  trite  and  beautiful  sayings.  1  do  not  attempt,  in 
any  way,  to  palliate  this  great  wrong.  I  would  not 
do  so  even  if  I  had  an  idea  what  palliate  meant. 

It  will,  however,  add  one  more  to  the  series  of  books 
for  which  I  am  to  blame,  and  the  pleasure  of  travel 
will  be  very  much  enhanced,  for  me,  at  least. 

There  is  one  friend  I  always  meet  on  the  trains 
when  I  travel.  He  is  the  news  agent.  He  comes  to 
me  with  my  own  books  in  his  arms,  and  tells  me  over 
and  over  again  of  their  merits.  He  means  it,  too. 
What  object  could  he  have  in  coming  to  me,  not 
knowing  who  I  am,  and  telling  me  of  their  great 
worth  ?  Why  would  he  talk  that  way  to  me  if  he  did 
not  really  feel  it  ? 

That  is  one  reason  I  travel  so  much.  When  I  get 
gloomy  and  heartsick,  I  like  to  get  on  a  train  and  be 
assured  once  more,  by  a  total  stranger,  that  my  books 
have  never  been  successfully  imitated. 

Some  authors  like  to  have  a  tall  man,  with  a  glazed 
grip-sack,  and  whose  breath  is  stronger  than  his  intel- 
lect, selling  their  works;  but  I  do  not  prefer  that  way. 
I  like  the  candor  and  ingenuousness  of  the  train-boy. 
He  does  not  come  to  the  front  door  while  you  are  at 
prayers,  and  ring  the  bell  till  the  hat-rack  falls  down, 

5 


6 


PREFACE. 


and  then  try  to  sell  you  a  book  containing  2,000 
receipts  for  the  blind  staggers.  He  leans  gently  over 
you  as  you  look  out  the  car  window,  and  he  puts  some 
pecan  meats  in  your  hand,  and  thus  wins  your  trust- 
ing heart.  Then  he  sells  you  a  book,  and  takes  an 
interest  in  you. 

This  book  will  go  to  swell  the  newsboy's  armful, 
and  if  there  be  any  excuse,  under  the  sun,  for  its 
publication,  aside  from  the  royalty ;  that  is  it. 

I  have  taken  great  care  to  thoroughly  eradicate 
anything  that  would  have  the  appearance  of  poetry 
in  this  work,  and  there  is  not  a  thought  or  suggestion 
contained  in  it  that  would  soil  the  most  delicate 
fabric. 

Do  not  read  it  all  at  once,  however,  in  order  to  see 
whether  he  married-the  girl  or  not.  Take  a  little  at 
a  time,  and  it  will  cure  gloom  on  the  "  similia  simili- 
bus  curanter"  principle.  If  you  read  it  all  at  once, 
and  it  gives  you  the  heaves,  I  am  glad  of  it,  and  you 
deserve  it.  I  will  not  bind  myself  to  write  the 
obituary  of  such  people.  B.  N. 

Hudson,  Wis.,  Sept,  5,  1883. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


About  Saw-Mills,    -     -  20 

About  the  Autopsy,  -  300 
About  the  Ostrich,  -  -  234 
Always  Room  at  the  Top,  134 
Anecdote  of  Spotted  Tail,  212 
Another  Feathered  Song- 
ster,  233 

Another  Suggestion,  -  230 
Autumn  Thoughts,  44 
A  Barefooted  Goddess,  224 
A  Blow  to  the  Government,261 
A  Card,  -  180 

A  Colored  Greek  Slave,  254 
A  Few  Calm  Words,  -  -  302 
A  Fire  at  a  Ball,  -  -  111 
A  Frigid  Route,  57 
A  Judicial  Warbler,  -  109 
A  Letter  from  Leadville,  269 
A  Little  Puff,  112 
A  Little  Previous,  -  -  164 
A  Little  Vague,  -  -  201 
A  Mining  Experiment,  -  238 
A  New  Industry,  239 
A  New  "^oet,  78 
A  Nov^j.  Novelette,  -  9 
A  Reproductive  Comet,  -  199 
A  Snort  of  Agony,  -  129 
A  Trying  Situation,  -  28 
A  Word  in  Self-Defense,  81 
An  Electric  Belt,  -  100 
An  Incident  of  the  Cam- 
paign, -  140 
An  Infernal  Machine,  300 
An  Unclouded  Welcome,  221 
Are  You  a  Mormon  ?  -  258 
Ask  Us  Something  Diffi- 
cult, -  238 
Bill  Nye's  Cat,  40 
Business  Letters,  -  -  317 
Carving  Schools,  -  -  126 
Caution,  -  260 
Chicago  Custom  House,  -  246 
Chipeta's  Address  to  the 

Utes,  -----  37 
Color  Blindness,  -  -  162 
Congratulatory,  96 
Corraled  Him,  -  -  288 
Correspondence,  -  -  265 
Danger  of  Gardening,  319 
Decline  of  American  Hu- 
mor^     -  246 


PAGE 

Dignity,                      -  127 

Don't  Like  Our  Style,  304 

Drawbacks  of  Royalty,  298 

English  Humor,  299 

Etiquette  of  the  Napkin,  308 
Experiments  with  Old 

Cheese,  24 
Fatherly  Words,  -  149 
Firmness,  -  -  -  290 
Foreign  Opinion,  247 
Fraternal  Sparring,  -  33 
Fruit,  -  -  -  -  94 
Fun  of  Being  a  Publisher,  91 
Genius  and  Whisky,  -  117 
goshallhemlock  salve,  146 
Greeley  and  Rum,  -  17 
Health  Food,  -  -  -  75 
Heap  Gone  !  -  167 
He  was  Not  a  Burglar,  -  103 
His  Aged  Mother,  -  315 
Household  Recipes,  -  207 
How  to  Put  up  a  Stove- 
pipe, -  -  -  _  90 
How  to  Preserve  Teeth,  218 
Hung  by  Request,  -  252 
Inaccurate,  -  135 
Incongruity,  -  -  -  282 
Is  Dueling  Murder  ?  -  166 
Joaquin  and  Juniata,  -  64 
Lame  from  His  Berth,  -  194 
Let  Baldheaded  Men  Re- 
joice,   289 

Lingerie,  -  94 
Mania  for  Marking 

Clothes,  -  154 
Mending  Broken  Necks,  257 
Mining  as  a  Science,  -  295 
Mr.  Belcher's  Brain,  -  218 
Mr.  Tug  Wilson,  306 
MY  Cabinet,  72 
Oh!  No!  -  -  -  -  219 
One  Kind  of  a  Boy,  29 
One  Touch  of  Nature,  86 
Ostrich  Cavalry,  99 
Pines  for  His  Old  Home,  82 
Piscatorial  and  Editorial,232 
Poisons  and  Their  Anec- 
dotes, -  -  264 
Preserving  Eggs,  -  54 
Regarding  the  Nose,  -  158 
Rest  on,  Blessed  Memory,  104 


8 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Riding  Down  a  Mountain,  284 

Rough  on  Oscar,  -     -     -  177 

Sad  Destruction,  204 

Sage  Brush  Tonic,    -     -  192 

Scientific,       -  184 

Snowed  Under,  -  -  -  175 
Something  Too  Much  of 

this,   161 

Something  Fresh,  223 
Some  Vague  Thoughts,  -  66 
Table  Manners  of  Chil- 
dren, 273 
The  Agony  is  Over,  -  98 
The  Amende  Honorable,  60 
The  Annual  Wail,  -  -  101 
The  Bone  of  Contention,  95 
The  Champion  Mean  Man,  32 
The  Chinese  Compositor,  174 
The  Codfish,  -  -  313 
The  Cultivation  of  Gum,  122 
The  Editorial  Lamp,  -  169 
The  Good  Time  Coming,  152 
The  Immediate  Revolver,  205 
The  Man  who  Interrupts,  50 
The  March  of  Civilization,  221 


page 

The  Maroon  Sausage,  -  170 
The  Melvilles,  -  -  -  255 
The  Mimic  Stage,  -  -  240 
The  Pillow-Sham  Holder,  222 
The  Previous  Hotel,  -  211 
The  Revelation  Racket  in 

Utah,  -  -  -  -  189 
The  Rocky  Mountain  Cow,  53 
The  Secret  of  Health,  -  206 
The  Stage  Bald-Head,  147 
The  Zealous  Voter,  -  -  216 
They  Curbed  their  Woe,  250 
Too  Contiguous,  -  -  58 
Two  Styles,  -  -  -  143 
Voters  in  Utah,  -  -  - ■  279 
We  are  Getting  Cynical,  236 
We  have  Reasoned  it  Out,  125 
What  the  Democratic 

Party  Needs,  -  -  -  268 
What  is  Literature  ?  -  209 
What  it  Meant,  -  -  -  276 
Why  we  Shed  the  Scalding,  228 
Why  we  are  Not  Gay,  -  182 
Why  do  they  Do  It  ?  -  142 
Yanked  to  Eternity,    -  225 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

Portrait  of  W.  E.  Nye,       -  -  -  -  Frontispiece 

"  They  put  Him  in  a  Nail-Keg  and  Carried  Him  Away,"    -  21 
Bill  Nye's  Cat,   ------  40 

"At  this  moment  he  does  not  look  Romantic,"      -  -  45 

"  He  said  he  would  give  me  Four  Minutes,"    -  -  61 

"He  Pines  for  His  Old  Home,"       -  -  -  -  83 

"  Rest  on,  Blessed  Memory  ! "    -  105 
Crosby's  Portrait,  by  Nye,  -  -  ,  -  -  116 

"A  Snort  of  Agony,"     -----  131 

Mania  for  Marking  Clothes,         -  -  -  -  155 

185 
-  213 


Scientific,  - 
Anecdote  of  Spotted  Tail,  - 
The  Mimic  Stage,  -  -  -  -  -  243 

Elder  Don  Miguel  Connubialson,  as  Adam,  by  Nye,  -  259 
The  Meaning  of  "  E  Pluribus  Unum,"  -  -  -  227 


BALED  HAY. 


A  NOVEL  NOVELETTE. 


INEVEE  wrote  a  novel,  because  I  always 
thought  it  required  more  of  a  mashed-rasp- 
berry  imagination  than  I  could  muster,  but  I  was 
the  business  manager,  once,  for  a  year  and  a  half, 
of  a  little  two-bit  novelette  that  has  never  been 
published. 

I  now  propose  to  publish  it,  because  I  cannot 
keep  it  to  myself  any  longer. 

Allow  me,  therefore,  to  reminisce. 

Harry  Bevans  was  an  old  schoolmate  of  mine 
in  the  clays  of  (^~^y^f\  and  although  Bevans  was 
not  his  sure-enough  name,  it  will  answer  for  the 
purposes  herein  set  forth.  At  the  time  of  which 
I  now  speak  he  was  more  bashful  than  a  book 
agent,  and  was  trying  to  promote  a  cream-colored 
mustache  and  buff  "  Donegals  "  on  the  side. 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  he  was  madly  in  love  with 
Fanny  Buttonhook,  and  too  bashful  to  say  so  by 
telephone. 

Her  name  wasn't  Buttonhook,  but  I  will  admit 
9 


10 


BALED  HAY. 


it  for  the  sake  of  argument.  Harry  lived  over  at 
Kalamazoo,  we  will  say,  and  Fanny  at  Oshkosh. 
These  were  not  the  exact  names  of  the  towns,  but 
I  desire  to  bewilder  the  public  a  little  in  order  to 
avoid  any  harassing  disclosures  in  the  future. 
It  is  always  well  enough,  I  find,  to  deal  gently 
with  those  who  are  alive  and  moderately  muscular. 
:  Young  Bevans  was  not  specially  afraid  of  old 
man  Buttonhook,  or  his  wife.  He  didn't  dread 
the  enraged  parent  worth  a  cent.  He  wasn't 
afraid  of  anybody  under  the  cerulean  dome,  in 
fact,  except  Miss  Buttonhook;  but  when  she 
sailed  down  the  main  street,  Harry  lowered  his 
colors  and  dodged  into  the  first  place  he  found 
open,  whether  it  was  a  millinery  store  or  a  livery 
stable. 

Once,  in  an  unguarded  moment,  he  passed  so 
near  her  that  the  gentle  south  wind  caught  up 
the  cherry  ribbon  that  Miss  Buttonhook  wore  at 
her  throat,  and  slapped  Mr.  Bevans  across  the 
cheek  with  it  before  he  knew  what  ailed  him. 
There  was  a  little  vision  of  straw  hat,  brown  hair, 
and  pink-and-white  cuticle,  as  it  were,  a  delicate 
odor  of  violets,  the  "swish"  of  a  summer  silk, 
and  my  friend,  Mr.  Bevans,  put  his  hand  to  his 
head,  like  a  man  who  has  a  sun-stroke,  and  fell 
into  a  drug  store  and  a  state  of  wild  mash,  ruin 
and  helpless  chaos. 


A  NOVEL  NOVELETTE. 


11 


His  bashfulness  was  not  seated  nor  chronic.  It 
was  the  varioloid,  and  didn't  hurt  him  only  when 
Miss  Buttonhook  was  present,  or  in  sight.  He 
was  polite  and  chatty  with  other  girls,  and  even 
dared  to  be  blithe  and  gay  sometimes,  too,  but 
when  Frances  loomed  up  in  the  distance,  he  would 
climb  a  rail  fence  nine  feet  high  to  evade  her. 

He  told  me  once  that  he  wished  I  would  erect 
the  frame-work  of  a  letter  to  Fanny,  in  which  he 
desired  to  ask  that  he  might  open  up  a  corre- 
spondence with  her.  He  would  copy  and  mail  it,  he 
said,  and  he  was  sure  that  I,  being  a  disinterested 
party,  would  be  perfectly  calm. 

I  wrote  a  letter  for  him,  of  which  I  was  moder- 
ately proud.  It  would  melt  the  point  on  a  light- 
ning rod,  it  seemed  to  me,  for  it  was  just  as  full  of 
gentleness  and  poetic  soothe  as  it  could  be,  and 
Tupper,  Webster's  Dictionary  and  my  scrap-book 
had  io  give  down  first  rate.  Still  it  was  manly 
and  square-toed.  It  was  another  man's  confes- 
sion, and  I  made  it  bulge  out  with  frankness  and 
candor. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  I  went  over  to  Oshkosh 
about  the  time  Harry's  prize  epistle  reached  that 
metropolis,  and  having  been  a  confidant  of  Miss 
B's  from  early  childhood,  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
reading  Bev's  letter,  and  advising  the  young  lady 
about  the  correspondence. 


12 


BALED  HAY. 


Finally  a  bright  thought  struck  her.  She  went 
over  to  an  easy  chair,  and  sat  down  on  her  foot, 
coolly  proposing  that  I  should  outline  a  letter 
replying  to  Harry's,  in  a  reserved  and  rather 
frigid  manner,  yet  bidding  him  dare  to  hope  that 
if  his  orthography  and  punctuation  continued 
.correct,  he  might  write  occasionally,  though  it 
must  be  considered  entirely  sub  rosa  and  abnor- 
mally entire  nous  on  account  of  "  Pa." 

By  the  way,  "  Pa  "  was  a  druggist,  and  one  of 
the  salts  of  the  earth  — Epsom  salts,  of  course. 

I  agreed  to  write  the  letter,  swore  never  to 
reveal  the  secret  workings  of  the  order,  the  grips, 
explanations,  passwords  and  signals,  and  then 
wrote  her  a  nice,  demure,  startled-fawn  letter,  as 
brief  as  the  collar  to  a  party  dress,  and  as  solemn 
as  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 

Then  I  said  goocl-by,  and  returned  to  my  own 
home,  which  was  neither  in  Kalamazoo  nor  Osh- 
kosh.  There  I  received  a  flat  letter  from  William 
Henry  Bevans,  inclosing  one  from  Fanny,  and 
asking  for  suggestions  as  to  a  reply.  Her  letter 
was  in  Miss  Buttonhook's  best  vein.  I  remember 
having  written  it  myself. 

Well,  to  cut  a  long  story  short,  every  other 
week  I  wrote  a  letter  for  Fanny,  and  on  interven- 
ing weeks  I  wrote  one  for  the  lover  at  Kalamazoo. 
By  keeping  copies  of  all  letters  written,  I  had  a 


A  NOVEL  NOVELETTE. 


13 


record  showing  where  I  was,  and  avoided  saying 
the  same  pleasant  things  twice. 

Thus  the  short,  sweet  summer  scooted  past. 
The  weeks  were  filled  with  gladness,  and  their 
memory  even  now  comes  back  to  me,  like  a  wood- 
violet-scented  vision.  A  wood-violet-scented  vis- 
ion comes  high,  but  it  is  necessary  in  this  place. 

Toward  winter  the  correspondence  grew  a  little 
tedious,  owing  to  the  fact  that  I  had  a  large  and 
tropical  boil  on  the  back  of  my  neck,  which  re- 
fused to  declare  its  intentions  or  come  to  a  focus 
for  three  weeks.  In  looking  over  the  letters  of 
both  lovers  yesterday,  I  could  tell  by  the  tone  of 
each  just  where  this  boil  began  to  grow  up,  as  it 
were,  between  two  fond  hearts. 

This  feeling  grew  till  the  middle  of  December, 
when  there  was  a  red-hot  quarrel.  It  was  excit- 
ing and  spirited,  and  after  I  had  alternately  flat- 
tered myself  first  from  Kalamazoo  and  then  from 
Oshkosh,  it  was  a  genuine  luxury  to  have  a  row 
with  myself  through  the  medium  of  the  United 
States  mails. 

Then  I  made  up  and  got  reconciled.  I  thought 
it  would  be  best  to  secure  harmony  before  the 
holidays  so  that  Harry  could  go  over  to  Oshkosh 
and  spend  Christmas.  I  therefore  wrote  a  letter 
for  Harry  in  which  he  said  he  had,  no  doubt,  been 
ha^ty,  and  he  was  sorry.    It  should  not  occur 


14 


BALED  HAY. 


again.    The  days  had  been  like  weary  ages  since 

their  quarrel,  he  said  —  vicariously,  of  course  

and  the  light  had  been  shut  out  of  his  erstwhile 
joyous  life.  Death  would  be  a  luxury  unless  she 
forgave  him,  and  Hades  would  be  one  long,  sweet 
picnic  and  lawn  festival  unless  she  blessed  him 
with  her  smile. 

You  can  judge  how  an  old  newspaper  reporter, 
with  a  scarlet  imagination,  would  naturally  dash 
the  color  into  another  man's  picture  of  humility 
and  woe. 

She  replied  — by  proxy  — that  he  was  not  to 
blame.  It  was  her  waspish  temper  and  cruel 
thoughtlessness.  She  wished  he  would  come  over 
and  take  dinner  with  them  on  Christmas  day  and 
she  would  tell  him  how  sorry  she  was.  When  the 
man  admits  that  he's  a  brute  and  the  woman  says 
she's  sorry,  it  behooves  the  eagle  eye  of  the  casual 
spectator  to  look  up  into  the  blue  sky  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  till  the  reconciliation  has  had  a  chance 
and  the  brute  has  been  given  tiiue  to  wipe  a  damp 
sob  from  his  coat-collar. 

I  was  invited  to  the  Christmas  dinner  As  a 
successful  reversible  amanuensis  I  thought  I  de- 
served it.  I  was  proud  and  happy.  I  had  passed 
through  a  lover's  quarrel  and  sailed  in  with  white- 
winged  peace  on  time,  and  now  I  reckoned  that 
the  second  joint,  with  an  irregular  fragment  of 


A  NOVEL  NOVELETTE. 


15 


cranberry  jelly,  and  some  of  the  dressing,  and  a 
little  of  the  white  meat  please,  was  nothing  more 
than  right. 

Mr.  Bevans  forgot  to  be  bashful  twice  during 
the  day,  and  even  smiled  once  also.  He  began  to 
get  acquainted  with  Fanny  after  dinner,  and 
praised  her  beautiful  letters.  She  blushed  clear 
up  under  her  "wave,"  and  returned  the  compli- 
ment. 

That  was  natural.  When  he  praised  her  letters 
1  did  not  wonder,  and  when  she  praised  his  I 
admitted  that  she  was  eminently  correct.  I  never 
witnessed  better  taste  on  the  part  of  two  young 
and  trusting  hearts. 

After  Christmas  I  thought  they  would  both 
feel  like  buying  a  manual  and  doing  their  own 
writing,  but  they  did  not  dare  to  do  so  evidently. 
They  seemed  to  be  afraid  the  change  would  be 
detected,  so  I  piloted  them  into  the  middle  of  the 
succeeding  fall,  and  then  introduced  the  crisis 
into  both  their  lives. 

It  was  a  success. 

I  felt  about  as  well  as  though  I  were  to  be  cut 
down  myself,  and  married  off  in  the  very  prime 
of  life.  Fanny  wore  the  usual  clothing  adopted 
by  young  ladies  who  are  about  to  be  sacrificed  to 
a  great  horrid  man.  I  cannot  give  the  exact 
description  of  her  trousseau,  but  she  looked  like  a 


16 


BALED  HAY. 


hazel-eyed  angel,  with  a  freckle  on  the  bridge  of 
her  nose.  The  groom  looked  a  little  scared,  and 
moved  his  gloved  hands  as  though  they  weighed 
twenty-one  pounds  apiece. 

However,  it's  all  over  now.  I  was  up  there 
recently  to  see  them.  They  are  quite  happy. 
Not  too  happy,  but  just  happy  enough.  They 
call  their  oldest  son  Birdie.  I  wanted  them  to 
call  him  William,  but  they  were  headstrong  and 
named  him  Birdie.  That  wounded  my  pride,  and 
so  I  called  him  Earlie  Birdie. 


GKEELEY  AXD  BUM. 


"TTTHEN  I  visit  Greeley  I  am  asked  over  and 
W  over  again  as  to  the  practical  workings 
of  woman  suffrage  in  Wyoming,  and  when  I  go 
back  to  Wyoming  I  am  asked  how  prohibition 
works  practically  in  Greeley,  Col.  By  telling 
varied  and  pleasing  lies  about  both  I  manage  to 
have  a  good  deal  of  fun,  and  also  keep  the  two 
elements  on  the  anxious  seat. 

There  are  two  sides  to  both  questions,  and  some 
day  when  I  get  time  and  have  convalesced  a  little 
more,  I  am  going  to  write  a  large  book  relating  to 
these  two  matters.  At  present  I  just  want  to  say 
a  word  about  the  colony  which  bears  the  name  of 
the  Tribune  philosopher,  and  nestles  so  lovingly 
at  the  chilly  feet  of  the  Eocky  mountains.  As  I 
write,  Greeley  is  apparently  an  oasis  in  the  desert. 
It  looks  like  a  fertile  island  dropped  down  from 
heaven  in  a  boundless  stretch  of  buffalo  grass, 
sage  hens  and  cunning  little  prairie  dogs.  And 
yet  you  could  not  come  here  as  a  stranger,  and 
within  the  colonial  barbed  wire  fence,  procure  a 
bite  of  cold  rum  if  you  were  President  of  the 
United  States,  with  a  rattlesnake  bite  as  large 
2  47 


18 


BALED  HAY. 


as  an  Easter  egg  concealed  about  your  person. 
You  can,  however,  become  acquainted,  if  you 
are  of  a  social  nature  and  keep  your  eyes  open. 
I  do  not  say  this  because  I  have  been  thirsty  these 
few  past  weeks  and  just  dropped  on  the  game,  as 
Aristotle  would  say,  but  just  to  prove  that  men 
are  like  boys,  and  when  you  tell  them  they  can't 
have  any  particular  thing,  that  is  the  thing  they 
are  apt  to  desire  with  a  feverish  yearn.  That  is 
why  the  thirstful  man  in  Maine  drinks  from  the 
gas  fixture ;  why  the  Kansas  drinkist  gets  his  out 
of  a  rain-water  barrel,  and  why  other  miracles  too 
numerous  to  mention  are  performed. 

Whisky  is  more  bulky  and  annoying  to  carry 
about  in  the  coat-tail  pocket  than  a  plug  of  to- 
bacco, but  there  have  been  cases  where  it  was  suc- 
cessfully done.    I  was  shown  yesterday  a  little 
corner  that  would  hold  six  or  eight  bushels.  It 
was  in  the  wash-room  of  a  hotel,  and  was  about 
half  full.    So  were  the  men  who  came  there,  for 
before  night  the  entire  place  was  filled  with  empty 
whisky  bottles  of  every  size,  shape  and  smell. 
The  little  fat  bottle  with  the  odor  of  gin  and  liv- 
ery stable  was  there,  and  the  large  flat  bottle  that 
you  get  at  Evans,  four  miles  away,  generally  filled 
with  something  that  tastes  like  tincture  of  capsi- 
cum, spirits  of  ammonia  and  lingering  death,  is 
also  represented  in  this  great  congress  of  cosmo- 


GREELEY  AND  SUM. 


19 


politan  bottles  sucked  dry  and  the  cork  gnawed 
half  up. 

When  I  came  to  Greeley,  I  was  still  following 
the  course  of  treatment  prescribed  by  my  Laramie 
City  physician,  and  with  the  rest,  I  was  required 
to  force  clown  three  adult  doses  of  brandy  per 
day.    He  used  to  taste  the  prescription  at  times 
to  see  if  it  had  been  properly  compounded.  Shortly 
after  my  arrival  here  I  ran  out  of  this  remedy  and 
asked  a  friend  to  go  and  get  the  bottle  refilled. 
He  was  a  man  not  familiar  with  Greeley  in  its 
moisture-producing  capacity,  and  he  was  unable 
to  procure  the  vile  demon  in  the  town  for  love  or 
wealth.    The  druggist  even  did  not  keep  it,  and 
although  he  met  crowds  of  men  with  tears  in  their 
eyes  and  breath  like  a  veteran  bung-starter,  he 
had  to  go  to  Evans  for  the  required  opiate.  This 
I  use  externally,  now,  on  the  vagrant  dog  who 
comes  to  me  to  be  fondled  and  who  goes  away 
with  his  hair  off.    Central  Colorado  is  full  of  par- 
tially bald  dogs  who  have  wiped  their  wet,  cold 
noses  on  me,  not  wisely  but  too  well. 


ABOUT  SAW  MILLS. 


River  Falls,  Wis.,  May  30. 

IHAYE  just  returned  from  a  trip  up  the 
North  Wisconsin  railway,  where  I  went  to 
catch  a  string  of  codfish,  and  anything  else  that 
might  be  contagious.  The  trip  was  a  pleasant  one 
and  productive  of  great  good  in  many  ways.  I 
am  hardening  myself  to  railway  traveling,  like 
Timberline  Jones'  man,  so  that  I  can  stand  the 
return  journey  to  Laramie  in  July. 

Northern  Wisconsin  is  the  place  where  the 
"foreign  lumber"  comes  from  which  we  use  in 
Laramie  in  the  erection  of  our  palatial  residences. 
I  visited  the  mill  last  week  that  furnished  the 
lumber  used  in  the  Oasis  hotel  at  Greeley.  They 
yank  a  big  wet  log  into  that  mill  and  turn  it  into 
cash  as  quick  as  a  railroad  man  can  draw  his  sal- 
ary out  of  the  pay  car.  The  log  is  held  on  a  car- 
riage by  means  of  iron  dogs  while  it  is  being- 
worked  into  lumber.  These  iron  dogs  are  not 
like  those  we  see  on  the  front  steps  of  a  brown 
stone  house  occasionally.  They  are  another  breed 
of  dogs. 

The  managing  editor  of  the  mill  lays  out  the 


ABOUT  SAW  MILLS. 


23 


log  in  his  mind,  and  works  it  into  dimension  stuff, 
shingle  bolts,  slabs,  edgings,  two  by  fours,  two  by 
eights,  two  by  sixes,  etc.,  so  as  to  use  the  goods  to 
the  best  advantage,  just  as  a  woman  takes  a  dress 
pattern  and  cuts  it  so  she  won't  have  to  piece  the 
front  breadths,  and  will  still  have  enough  left  to 
make  a  polonaise  for  the  last-summer  gown. 

I  stood  there  for  a  long  time  watching  the  va- 
rious saws  and  listening  to  their  monotonous 
growl,  and  wishing  that  I  had  been  born  a  suc- 
cessful timber  thief  instead  of  a  poor  boy  without 
a  rag  to  my  back. 

At  one  of  these  mills,  not  long  ago,  a  man 
backed  up  to  get  away  from  the  carriage,  and 
thoughtlessly  backed  against  a  large  saw  that  was 
revolving  at  the  rate  of  about  200  times  a  minute. 
The  saw  took  a  large  chew  of  tobacco  from  the 
plug  he  had  in  his  pistol  pocket,  and  then  began 
on  him. 

But  there's  no  use  going  into  details.  Such 
things  are  not  cheerful.  They  gathered  him  up 
out  of  the  sawdust  and  put  him  in  a  nail  keg  and 
carried  him  away,  but  he  did  not  speak  again. 
Life  was  quite  extinct.  Whether  it  was  the  nerv- 
ous shock  that  killed  him,  or  the  concussion  of  the 
cold  saw  against  his  liver  that  killed  him,  no  one 
ever  knew. 

The  mill  shut  down  a  couple  of  hours  so  that 


24 


BALED  HAY. 


the  head  sawyer  could  file  his  saw,  and  then  work 
was  resumed  once  more. 

We  should  learn  from  this  never  to  lean  on  the 
buzz  saw  when  it  moveth  itself  aright. 


EXPEBIMEOTS  WITH  OLD 
CHEESE. 


ABECENT  article  in  a  dairy  paper  is  entitled, 
"  Experiments  with  Old  Cheese."  We  have 
experimented  some  on  the  venerable  cheese,  too. 
One  plan  is  to  administer  chloroform  first,  then 
perform  the  operation  while  the  cheese  is  under  its 
influence.  This  renders  the  experiment  entirely 
painless,  and  at  the  same  time  it  is  more  apt  to 
keep  quiet.  After  the  operation  the  cheese  may 
be  driven  a  few  miles  in  the  open  air,  which  will 
do  away  with  the  effects  of  the  chloroform. 


THE  HAG  CAEPET. 


ITH  the  threatened  eruption  of  the  rag 
carpet  as  a  kind  of  venerable  successor  to 
the  genuine  Boston-made  Turkish  rug,  there  comes 
a  wail  on  the  part  of  the  male  portion  of  human- 
ity, and  a  protest  on  the  part  of  all  health-loving 
humanity. 

I  rise  at  this  moment  as  the  self-appointed  rep- 
resentative of  poor,  down-trodden  and  long-suffer- 
ing man.  Already  lady  friends  are  looking  with 
avaricious  and  covetous  eyes  on  my  spring  suit, 
and,  in  fancy,  constructing  a  stripe  of  navy  blue, 
while  some  other  man's  spring  clothes  are  already 
spotted  for  the  "  hit-or-miss  "  stripe  of  this  time- 
honored  humbug. 

It  does  seem  to  me  that  there  is  enough  sorrow- 
ing toil  going  for  nothing  already ;  enough  of  back 
ache  and  delirium,  without  tearing  the  shirts  off  a 
man's  back  to  sew  into  a  big  ball,  and  then  weave 
into  a  rag  carpet  made  to  breathe  death  and  dis- 
ease, with  its  prehistoric  perspiration  and  its 
modern  drug  store  dyes. 

The  rug  now  commonly  known  as  the  Turkish 
prayer  rug,  has  a  sad,  worn  look,  but  it  does  not 
come  up  to  the  rag  carpet  of  the  dear  old  home. 
25 


26 


BALED  HAY. 


Around  it  there  clusters,  perhaps,  a  tradition  of  an 
Oriental  falsehood,  but  the  rag  carpet  of  the  dear 
old  home,  rich  in  association,  is  an  heir-loom  that 
passes  down  from  generation  to  generation,  like 
the  horse  blanket  of  forgotten  years  or  the  rag- 
bag of  the  dear,  dead  past.  Here  is  found  the 
stripe  of  all-wool  delaine  that  was  worn  by  one 
who  is  now  in  the  golden  hence,  or,  stricken  with 
the  Dakota  fever,  living  in  the  squatter's  home; 
and  there  is  the  fragment  of  underclothes  prema- 
turely jerked  from  the  back  of  the  husband  and 
father  before  the  silver  of  a  century  had  crept 
into  his  hair.  There  is  no  question  but  the  dear 
old  rag  carpet,  with  poisonous  greens  and  sickly 
yellows  and  brindle  browns  and  doubtful  blacks, 
is  a  big  thing.  It  looks  kind  of  modest  and  un- 
pretending, and  yet  speaks  of  the  dead  past,  and 
smells  of  the  antique  and  the  garret. 

It  represents  the  long  months  when  aching 
fingers  first  sewed  the  garments,  then  the  first 
dash  of  gravy  on  the  front  breadth,  the  madden- 
ing cry,  the  wild  effort  to  efface  it  with  benzine, 
the  sorrowful  defeat,  the  dusty  grease-spot  stand- 
ing like  a  pork-gravy  plaque  upon  the  face  of 
the  past,  the  glad  relinquishment  of  the  gar- 
ment, the  attack  of  the  rag-carpet  fiend  upon 
it,  the  hurried  crash  as  it  was  torn  into  shreds  and 
sewn  together,  then  the  mad  plunge  of  the  dust- 


THE  RAG  CARPET. 


27 


powdered  mass  into  the  reeking  bath  of  Paris 
green  or  copperas,  then  the  weaver's  gentle  racket, 
and  at  last  the  pale,  consumptive,  freckled,  sickly 
panorama  of  outrageous  coloring,  offending  the 
eye,  the  nose,  the  thorax  and  the  larynx,  to  be 
trodden  under  feet  of  men,  and  to  yield  up  its 
precious  dose  of  destroying  poisons  from  genera- 
tion even  unto  generation. 

It  is  not  a  thing  of  beauty,  for  it  looks  like  the 
colored  engraving  of  a  mortified  lung.  It  is  not 
economical,  for  the  same  time  devoted  to  knock- 
ing out  the  brains  of  frogs  and  collecting  their 
hams  for  the  metropolitan  market  would  yield  in- 
finitely more;  and  it  is  not  worth  much  as  an  heir- 
loom, for  within  the  same  time  a  mortgage  may 
be  placed  upon  the  old  homestead  which  will  pass 
down  from  father  to  son,  even  to  nations  yet  un- 
born, and  attract  more  attention  in  the  courts 
than  all  the  rag  carpets  that  it  would  require  to 
span  the  broad,  spangled  dome  of  heaven. 

I  often  wonder  that  Oscar  Wilde,  the  pale  pa- 
tron of  the  good,  the  true  and  the  beautiful,  did 
not  rise  in  his  might  and  knock  the  essential  warp 
and  filling  out  of  the  rag  carpet.  Oscar  did  not 
do  right,  or  he  would  have  stood  up  in  his  funny 
clothes  and  fought  for  reform  at  so  much  per 
fight.  "While  he  made  fun  of  the  Chicago  water 
works,  a  grateful  public  w^ould  have  buried  him  in 


28 


BALED  HAY. 


cut  flowers  if,  instead,  he  had  warped  it  to  the  rag 
carpet  and  the  approaching  dude. 


which  go  to  atone  for  the  disappointments 
and  sorrows  which  one  meets,"  but  when  a  young 
man's  rival  takes»the  fair  Matilda  to  see  the  base- 
ball game,  and  sits  under  an  umbrella  beside  her, 
and  is  at  the  height  of  enjoyment,  and  gets  the 
benefit  of  a  "hot  ball"  in  the  pit  of  his  stomach, 
there  is  a  nameless  joy  settles  down  in  the  heart 
of  the  lonesome  young  man,  such  as  the  world  can 
neither  give  nor  take  away. 


A  TKYHsGr  SITUATION. 


many  things  in  fife 


OKE  KIND  OF  A  BOY. 


I AM  always  sorry  to  see  a  youth  get  irritated 
and  pack  up  his  clothes,  in  the  heat  of  debate, 
and  leave  the  home  nest.  His  future  is  a  little 
doubtful,  and  it  is  hard  to  prognosticate  whether 
he  will  fracture  limestone  for  the  streets  of  a 
great  city,  or  become  President  of  the  United 
States ;  but  there  is  a  beautiful  and  luminous  life 
ahead  of  him  in  comparison  with  that  of  the  boy 
who  obstinately  refuses  to  leave  the  home  nest. 

The  boy  who  cannot  summon  the  moral  cour- 
age some  day  to  uncoil  the  tendrils  of  his  heart 
from  the  clustering  idols  of  the  household,  to 
grapple  with  outrageous  fortune,  ought  to  be 
taken  by  the  ear  and  led  away  out  into  the  great 
untried  realm  of  space. 

While  the  great  world  throbs  on,  he  sighs  and 
refuses  to  throb.  While  other  young  men  put  on 
their  seal-brown  overalls  and  wrench  the  laurel 
wreath  and  other  vegetables  from  cruel  fate,  the 
youth  who  dangles  near  the  old  nest,  and  eats  the 
hard-earned  groceries  of  his  father,  shivers  on  the 
brink  of  life's  great  current  and  sheds  the  scald- 
ing tear. 

He  is  the  young-man-afraid-of-the-sawbuck?  the 
29 


30 


BALED  HAY. 


human  being  with  the  unlaundried  spinal  column. 
The  only  vital  question  that  may  be  said  to  agitate 
his  pseudo  brain  is,  whether  he  shall  marry  and 
bring  his  wife  to  the  home  nest,  or  marry  and 
tear  loose  from  his  parents  to  live  with  his  father- 
in-law.  Finally  he  settles  it  and  compromises  by 
living  alternately  with  each. 

How  the  old  f <Jks  yearn  to  see  him.  How 
their  aged  eyes  light  up  when  he  comes  with  his 
growing  family  to  devour  everything  in  sight  and 
yawn  through  the  space  between  meals.  This  is 
the  heyday  of  his  life ;  the  high  noon  of  the  boy 
who  never  ventured  to  ride  the  yearling  colt,  or  to 
be  yanked  through  the  shimmering  sunlight  at  the 
tail  of  a  two-year-old.  He  never  dared  to  have 
any  fun  because  he  might  bump  his  nose  and 
make  it  bleed  on  his  clean  clothes.  He  never 
surreptitiously  cut  the  copper  wire  off  the  light- 
ning rod  to  snare  suckers  with,  and  he  never 
went  in  swimming  because  the  great,  rude  boys 
might  duck  him  or  paint  him  with  mud.  He 
shunned  the  green  apple  of  boyhood,  and  did  not 
slide  down  hill  because  he  would  have  to  pull  his 
sled  back  to  the  top  again. 

Now,  he  borrows  other  people's  newspapers, 
eats  the  provisions  of  others,  and  sits  on  the  coun- 
ter of  the  grocery  till  the  proprietor  calls  him  a 
counter  irritant. 


ONE  KIND  OF  A  BOY. 


31 


There  can  be  nothing  more  un-American  than 
this  flabby  polyp,  this  one-horse  tadpole  that  nev- 
er becomes  a  frog.  The  average  American  would 
rather  burst  up  in  business  six  times  in  four  years, 
and  settle  for  nine  cents  on  the  dollar,  than  to 
lead  such  a  life.  He  would  rather  be  an  active 
bankrupt  than  a  weak  and  bilious  barnacle  on  the 
clam-shell  of  home. 

The  true  American  would  rather  work  himself 
into  luxury  or  the  lunatic  asylum  than  to  hang 
like  a  great  wart  upon  the  face  of  nature.  This 
young  man  is  not  in  accordance  with  the  Yankee 
schedule,  and  yet  I  do  not  want  to  say  that  he  be- 
longs to  any  other  nation.  Foreign  powers  may 
have  been  wrong;  trans- Atlantic  nations  may 
have  erred,  and  the  system  of  European  govern- 
ment may  have  been  erroneous,  but  I  would  not 
come  out  and  charge  them  with  this  horrible  re- 
sponsibility. They  never  harmed  me,  and  I  will 
not  tarnish  their  fair  fame  with  this  grave  indict- 
ment. 

He  will  breathe  a  certain  amount  of  atmosphere, 
and  absorb  a  given  amount  of  feed  for  a  few  years, 
and  then  the  full-grown  biped  will  leave  the  home 
nest  at  last.  The  undertaker  will  come  and  get 
him  and  take  what  there  is  left  of  him  out  to  thb 
cemetery.  That  will  be  all.  There  can  be  no 
deep  abiding  sorrow  for  him  here ;  public  build- 


82 


BALED  HAY. 


ings  will  not  be  draped  in  mourning,  and  you  can 
get  your  mail  at  the  usual  hour  when  he  dies. 
The  band  will  not  play  a  sadder  strain  because 
the  fag-end  of  a  human  .failure  has  tapered  down 
to  death,  and  the  soft  and  shapeless  features  are 
still,  You  will  have  no  trouble  getting  a  draft 
cashed  on  that  day,  and  the  giddy  throng  will  join 
the  picnic  as  they  had  made  arrangements  to  do. 


THE  CHAMPION  MEA^T  MAK 


LAKAMIE  has  the  champion  mean  man.  He 
has  a  Sunday  handkerchief  made  to  order 
with  scarlet  spots  on  it,  which  he  sticks  up  to  his 
nose  just  before  the  plate  starts  round,  and  leaves 
the  church  like  a  house  on  fire.  So  after  he  has 
squeezed  out  the  usual  amount  of  gospel,  he  slips 
around  the  corner  and  goes  home  ten  cents  ahead, 
and  has  his  self-adjusting  nose-bleed  handkerchief 
for  another  trip. 


FEATEE^AL  SPAEEIj^G. 


T  HAVE  just  returned:  from  a  little  two-handed 
-L  tournament  with  the  gloves.  I  have  filled  my 
nose  with  cotton  waste  so  that  I  shall  not  soak 
this  sketch  in  gore  as  I  write. 

I  needed  a  little  healthful  exercise  and  was  look- 
ing for  something  that  would  be  full  of  vigorous 
enthusiasm,  and  at  the  same  time  promote  the 
healthful  flow  of  blood  to  the  muscles.  This  was 
rather  difficult.  I  tried  most  everything,  but 
failed.  Being  a  sociable  being  (joke)  I  wanted 
other  people  to  help  me  exercise,  or  go  along  with 
me  when  I  exercised.  Some  men  can  go  away  to 
a  desert  isle  and  have  fun  with  dumb-bells  and  a 
horizontal  bar,  but  to  me  it  would  seem  dull  and 
commonplace  after  a  while,  and  I  would  yearn  for 
more  humanity. 

Two  of  us  finally  concluded  to  play  billiards ; 
but  we  were  only  amateurs  and  the  owner  inti^ 
mated  that  he  would  want  the  table  for  Fourth  of 
July,  so  we  broke  off  in  the  middle  of  the  first 
game  and  I  paid  for  it. 

Then  a  younger  brother  said  he  had  a  set  of 
boxing-gloves  in  his  room,  and  although  I  was  the 
taller  and  had  longer  arms,  he  would  hold  up  as 

b  m 


34 


BALED  HAY. 


long  as  he  could  and  I  might  hammer  him  until  I 
gained  strength  and  finally  got  well. 

I  accepted  this  offer  because  I  had  often  re- 
gretted that  I  had  not  made  myself  familiar  with 
this  art,  and  also  because  I  knew  it  would  create 
a  thrill  of  interest  and  fire  me  with  ambition,  and 
that's  what  a  hollow-eyed  invalid  needs  to  put 
him  on  the  road  to  recovery. 

The  boxing-glove  is  a  large  fat  mitten,  with  an 
abnormal  thumb  and  a  string  at  the  wrist  by 
which  you  tie  it  on,  so  that  when  you  feed  it  to 
your  adversary  he  cannot  swallow  it  and  choke 
himself.  I  had  never  seen  any  boxing-gloves  be- 
fore, but  my  brother  said  they  were  soft  and 
wouldn't  hurt  anybody.  So  we  took  off  some  of 
our  raiment  and  put  them  on.  Then  we  shook 
hands.  I  can  remember  distinctly  yet  that  we 
shook  hands.  That  was  to  show  that  we  were 
friendly  and  would  not  slay  each  other. 

My  brother  is  a  great  deal  younger  than  I  am 
and  so  I  warned  him  not  to  get  excited  and  come 
for  me  with  anything  that  would  look  like  wild 
and  ungovernable  fury,  because  I  might,  in  the 
heat  of  debate,  pile  his  jaw  up  on  his  forehead  and 
fill  his  ear  full  of  sore  thumb.  He  said  that  was  all 
right  and  he  would  try  to  be  cool  and  collected. 

Then  we  put  our  right  toes  together  and  I  told 
him  to  be  on  his  guard.    At  that  moment  I  dealt 


FRATERNAL  SPARRING. 


85 


him  a  terrific  blow  aimed  at  his  nose,  but  through 
a  clerical  error  of  mine  it  went  over  his  shoulder 
and  spent  itself  in  the  wall  of  the  room,  shattering 
a  small  holly- wood  bracket,  for  which  I  paid  him 
$3.75  afterward.  I  did  not  wish  to  buy  the 
bracket  because  I  had  two  at  home,  but  he  was 
arbitrary  about  it  and  I  bought  it. 

We  then  took  another  athletic  posture,  and  in 
two  seconds  the  air  was  full  of  poulticed  thumb 
and  buckskin  mitten.  I  soon  detected  a  chance 
to  put  one  in  where  my  brother  could  smell  of  it, 
but  I  never  knew  just  where  it  struck,  for  at  that 
moment  I  ran  up  against  something  with  the  pit 
of  my  stomach  that  made  me  throw  up  the 
sponge  along  with  some  other  groceries,  the 
names  of  which  I  cannot  now  recall. 

My  brother  then  proposed  that  we  take. off 
the  gloves,  but  I  thought  I  had  not  sufficiently 
punished  him,  and  that  another  round  would 
complete  the  conquest,  which  was  then  almost 
within  my  grasp.  I  took  a  bismuth  powder  and 
squared  myself,  but  in  warding  off  a  left-hander, 
I  forgot  about  my  adversary's  right  and  ran  my 
nose  into  the  middle  of  his  boxing-glove.  Fear- 
ing that  I  had  injured  him,  I  retreated  rapidly  on 
my  elbows  and  shoulder-blades  to  the  corner  of 
the  room,  thus  giving  him  ample  time  to  recover. 
By  this  means  my  younger  brother's  features 


36 


BALED  HAY. 


were  saved,  and  are  to-day  as  symmetrical  as  mj 

own. 

I  can  still  cough  up  pieces  of  boxing-gloves, 
and  when  I  close  my  eyes  I  can  see  calcium  lights 
and  blue  phosphorescent  gleams  across  the  hori- 
zon ;  but  I  am  thoroughly  convinced  that  there  is 
no  physical  exercise  which  yields  the  same  amount 
of  health  and  elastic  vigor  to  the  puncher  that  the 
manly  art  does.  To  the  punchee,  also,  it  affords 
a  large  wad  of  glad  surprises  and  nose  bleed, 
which  cannot  be  hurtful  to  those  who  hanker  for 
the  pleasing  nervous  shock,  the  spinal  jar  and  the 
pyrotechnic  concussion. 

That  is  why  I  shall  continue  the  exercises  after 
I  have  practiced  with  a  mule  or  a  cow-catcher 
two  or  three  weeks,  and  feel  a  little  more  conlL 
dence  in  myself. 


CHIPETA'S  ADDKESS  TO  THE 
UTES. 


-A-  of  the  dead  Ouray  speaks  to  you.  She 
comes  to  you,  not  as  the  squaw  of  the  dead  chief- 
tain, to  rouse  you  to  war  and  victory,  but  to  weep 
with  you  over  the  loss  of  her  people  and  the 
greed  of  the  pale  face. 

The  fair  Colorado,  over  whose  Rocky  moun- 
tains we  have  roamed  and  hunted  in  the  olden 
time,  is  now  overrun  by  the  silver-plated  Senator 
and  the  soft-eyed  dude. 

We  are  driven  to  a  small  corner  of  the  earth 
to  die,  while  the  oppressor  digs  gopher  holes  in 
the  green  grass  and  sells  them  to  the  speculator 
of  the  great  cities  toward  the  rising  sun. 

Through  the  long,  cold  winter  my  people  have 
passed,  in  want  and  cold,  while  the  conqueror  of 
the  peaceful  Ute  has  worn  $250  night-shirts  and 
filled  his  pale  skin  with  pie. 

Chipeta  addresses  you  as  the  weeping  squaw  of  a 
great  man  whose  bones  will  one  day  nourish  the 
cucumber  vine.  Ouray  now  sleeps  beneath  the 
brown  grass  of  the  canyon,  where  the  soft  Spring 
winds  may  stir  the  dead  leaves,  and  the  young 


sorrowing  widow 


37 


38 


BALED  HAY. 


coyote  may  come  and  monkey  o'er  his  grave. 
Ouray  was  ignorant  in  the  ways  of  the  pale 
face.  He  could  not  go  to  Congress,  for  he  was 
not  a  citizen  of  the  United  States.  He  had  not 
taken  out  his  second  papers.  He  was  a  simple 
child  of  the  forest,  but  he  stuck  to  Ohipeta.  He 
loved  Chipeta  like  a  hired  man.  That  is  why  the 
widowed  squaw  weeps  over  him. 

A  few  more  years  and  I  shall  join  Ouray  —  my 
chief,  Ouray  the  big  Injun  from  away  up  the 
gulch.  His  heart  is  still  open  to  me,  Chipeta 
could  trust  him,  even  among  the  smiling  maidens 
of  her  tribe.  Ouray  was  true.  There  was  no 
funny  business  in  his  nature.  He  loved  not  the 
garb  of  the  pale  face,  but  won  my  heart  while  he 
wore  a  saddle-blanket  and  a  look  of  woe. 

Chipeta  looks  to  the  north  and  the  south,  and 
all  about  are  the  graves  of  her  people.  The 
refinement  of  the  oppressor  has  come,  with  its 
divorce  and  schools  and  gin  cocktails  and  flour 
bread  and  fall  elections,  and  we  linger  here  like  a 
boil  on  the  neck  of  a  fat  man. 

Even  while  I  talk  to  you,  the  damp  winds  of 
April  are  sighing  through  my  vertebrae,  and  I've 
got  more  pains  in  my  back  than  a  conservatory. 

Weep  with  the  widowed  Chipeta.  Bow  your 
heads  and  howl,  for  our  harps  are  hung  on  the 
willows  and  our  wild  goose  is  cooked. 


chipeta's  address  to  the  utes.  39 


Who  will  be  left  to  mourn  at  Chipeta's  grave? 
done  but  the  starving  pappooses  of  my  nation. 
We  stand  in  the  gray  mist  of  spring  like  dead 
burdocks  in  the  field  of  the  honest  farmer,  and 
the  chilly  winds  of  departing  winter  make  us 
hump  and  gather  like  a  burnt  boot. 

All  we  can  do  is  to  wail.  We  are  the  red- 
skinned  wailers  from  Wailtown. 

Colorado  is  no  more  the  home  of  the  Ute.  It 
is  the  dwelling  place  of  the  bonanza  Senator,  who 
doesn't  know  the  difference  between  the  plan  of 
salvation  and  the  previous  question. 

Chipeta  cannot  vote.  Chipeta  cannot  pay  taxes 
to  a  great  nation,  but  you  will  be  apt  to  hear  her 
gentle  voice,  and  her  mellow  racket  will  fill  the 
air  till  her  tongue  is  cold,  and  they  tuck  the  buf- 
falo robe  about  her  and  plant  her  by  the  side  of 
her  dead  chieftain,  where  the  south  wind  and  the 
sage  hen  are  singing: 


BILL  NYE'S  OAT. 

(BY  PERMISSION.) 

I AM  not  fond  of  cats,  as  a  general  rule.  I 
never  yearned  to  have  one  around  the  house. 
My  idea  always  was,  that  I  could  have  trouble 
enough  in  a  legitimate  way  without  adding  a  cat 
to  my  woes.  With  a  belligerent  cook  and  a  com- 
munistic laundress,  it  seems  to  me  most  anybody 
ought  to  be  unhappy  enough  without  a  cat. 

I  never  owned  one  until  a  tramp  cat  came  to 
our  house  one  day  during  the  present  autumn,  and 

40 


BILL  NYE's  CAT. 


41 


tearfully  asked  to  be  loved.  He  didn't  have  any- 
thing in  his  make-up  that  was  calculated  to  win 
anybody's  love,  but  he  seemed  contented  with  a 
little  affection, —  one  ear  was  gone  and  his  tail 
was  bald  for  six  inches  at  the  end,  and  he  was 
otherwise  well  calculated  to  win  confidence  and 
sympathy.  Though  we  could  not  be  madly  in 
love  with  him,  we  decided  to  be  friends,  and  give 
*    him  a  chance  to  win  the  general  respect. 

Everything  would  have  turned  out  all  right  if 
the  bobtail  waif  had  not  been  a  little  given  to  in- 
vestigation. He  wanted  to  know  more  about  the 
great  world  in  which  he  lived,  so  he  began  by  in- 
specting my  house.  He  got  into  the  store-room 
closet  and  found  a  place  where  the  carpenter  had 
not  completed  his  job.  This  is  a  feature  of  the 
Laramie  artisan's  style.  He  leaves  little  places  in 
unobserved  corners  generally,  so  that  he  can  come 
back  some  day  and  finish  it  at  an  additional  cost 
of  fifty  dollars.  This  cat  observed  that  he  could 
enter  at  this  point  and  go  all  over  the  imposing 
structure  between  the  flooring  and  the  ceiling. 
He  proceeded  to  do  so. 

*  *  #  #         *  * 

We  will  now  suppose  that  a  period  of  two  days 
has  passed.  The  wide  halls  and  spacious  facades 
of  the  Nye  mansion  are  still.  The  lights  in  the 
banquet-hall  are  extinguished,  and  the  ice-cream 


42 


BALED  HAY. 


freezer  is  hushed  to  rest  in  the  wood-shed.  A 
soft  and  tearful  yowl,  deepened  into  a  regular 
ring-tail-peeler,  splits  the  solemn  night  in  twain. 
Nobody  seemed  to  know  where  it  came  from. 
I  rose  softly  and  went  to  where  the  sound  had 
seemed  to  well  up  from.    It  was  not  there. 

I  stood  on  a  piece  of  cracker  in  the  dining- 
room  a  moment,  waiting  for  it  to  come  again. 
This  time  it  came  from  the  boudoir  of  our  French 
artist  in  soup-bone  symphonies  and  pie  — Made- 
moiselle Bridget  O'Dooley.  I  went  there  and 
opened  the  door  softly,  so  as  to  let  the  cat  out 
without  disturbing  the  giant  mind  that  had  worn 
itself  out  during  the  day  in  the  kitchen,  bestow- 
ing a  dry  shampoo  to  the  china. 

Then  I  changed  my  mind  and  came  out.  Sev- 
eral articles  of  vertu,  beside  Bridget,  followed  me 
with  some  degree  of  vigor. 

The  next  time  the  tramp  cat  yowled  he  seemed 
to  be  in  the  recesses  of  the  bath-room.  I  went 
down  stairs  and  investigated.  In  doing  so  I 
drove  my  superior  toe  into  my  foot,  out  of  sight, 
with  a  door  that  I  encountered.  My  wife  joined 
me  in  the  search.  She  could  not  do  much,  but 
she  aided  me  a  thousand  times  by  her  counsel. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  her  mature  advice  I  might 
have  lost  much  of  the  invigorating  exercise  of 
that  memorable  night. 


BILL  NYE'S  CAT. 


43 


Toward  morning  we  discovered  that  the  cat 
was  between  the  floor  of  the  children's  play-room 
and  the  ceiling  of  the  dining-room.  We  tried 
till  daylight  to  persuade  the  cat  to  come  out  and 
get  acquainted,  but  he  would  not. 

At  last  we  decided  that  the  quickest  way  to  get 
the  poor  little  thing  out  was  to  let  him  die  in 
there,  and  then  we  could  tear  up  that  portion  of 
the  house  and  get  him  out.  While  he  lived  we 
couldn't  keep  him  still  long  enough  to  tear  a  hole 
in  the  house  and  get  at  him. 

It  was  a  little  unpleasant  for  a  day  or  two  wait- 
ing for  death  to  come  to  his  relief,  for  he  seemed 
to  die  hard,  but  at  last  the  unearthly  midnight 
yowl  was  still.  The  plaintive  little  voice  ceased 
to  vibrate  on  the  still  and  pulseless  air.  Later, 
we  found,  however,  that  he  was  not  dead.  In  a 
lucid  interval  he  had  discovered  the  hole  in  the 
store-room  where  he  entered,  and,  as  we  found 
afterward  a  gallon  of  coal-oil  spilled  in  a  barrel 
of  cut  loaf-sugar,  we  concluded  that  he  had 
escaped  by  that  route. 

That  was  the  only  time  that  I  ever  kept  a  cat, 
and  I  didn't  do  it  then  because  I  was  suffering  for 
something  to  fondle.  I've  got  a  good  deal  of  sur- 
plus affection,  I  know,  but  I  don't  have  to  spread 
it  out  over  a  stump-tail  orphan  cat. 


AUTUME"  THOUGHTS. 


IN  the  Eocky  mountains  now  the  eternal  white- 
ness is  stealing  down  toward  the  foot-hills 
and  the  brown  mantle  of  October  hangs  softly 
on  the  swelling  divide,  while  along  the  wind- 
ing streams,  cotton  wood  and  willow  are  turned 
to  gold,  and  the  deep  green  of  the  solemn  pines 
lies  farther  back  against  the  soft  blue  of  the 
autumn  sky.  The  sigh  of  the  approaching  storm 
is  heard  at  eventide,  and  the  hostile  Indian  comes 
into  the  reservation  to  get  some  arnica  for  his 
chilblain,  and  to  heal  up  the  old  feeling  of  intol- 
erance  on  the  part  of  the  pale  face. 

lie  leaves  the  glorious  picture  of  mountain 
and  glen ;  the  wide  sweep  of  magnificent  nature, 
where  a  thousand  gorgeous  dyes  are  spread  over 
the  remains  of  the  dead  summer,  and  folding  his 
tepee,  he  steals  into  the  home  of  the  white  man 
that  he  may  be  once  more  at  peace  with  the 
world. 

The  hectic  of  the  dying  year  saddens  and 
depresses  him,  for  is  it  not  an  emblem  to  him  of 
the  death  of  his  race  %  Is  it  not  to  him  an  assur- 
ance that  in  the  golden  ultimately,  the  red  man 
will  be  sought  for  on  the  face  of  the  earth  and  he 
44 


AUTUMN  THOUGHT*. 


47 


will  not  be  able  to  represent.  JEU  will  not  be 
there  either  in  person  or  by  proxy.  Here  and 
there  may  be  found  the  little  silent  mounds  with 
some  glass  beads  and  teeth  in  them,  but  the  silent 
warrior  with  the  Eoman  nose  will  not  be  there. 

The  Indian  agent  will  have  a  large,  conserva- 
tive cemetery  on  his  hands,  and  the  brave  warrior 
will  be  marching  single  file  through  the  corridors 
of  the  hence. 

At  this  moment  he  does  not  look  romantic. 
Clothed  in  a  coffee  sack  and  a  little  brief  authority, 
he  would  not  make  a  good  vignette  on  a  $5  bill. 
His  wife,  too,  looks  careworn,  and  the  old  glad 
light  is  not  in  her  eye.  Her  gunny-sack  dolman 
is  not  what  it  once  was,  and  her  beautifully  arched 
foot  has  spread  out  over  the  reservation  more 
than  it  used  to.  Her  step  has  lost  its  old  elas- 
ticity, and  so  have  her  suspenders. 

Autumn  brings  to  her  nothing  but  regret  for 
the  past  and  hopelessness  for  the  future.  The 
cold  and  cruel  winter  will  bring  her  nothing  but 
bitter  memories  and  condemned  government  grub. 
The  solemn  hush  of  nature  and  the  gorgeous  col- 
oring of  the  forest  do  not  awake  a  thrill  in  her 
wild  heart.  She  cares  not  for  the  dead  summer 
or  the  mellow  mist  of  the  grand  old  mountains. 

She  doefcn't  care  two  cents.  She  knows  that  no 
seaMrin  sa<%ue  will  come  to  her  on  the  Christmas 


BALED  HAY. 


trees,  and  tta  glad  welcome  of  the  placid  and 
select  oyster  is  not  for  her. 

Is  it  surprising,  then,  that  to  this  decaying 
belle  of  an  old  family  the  sparkle  of  hope  is  un- 
known %  Can  we  wonder,  as  we  contemplate  her 
history,  that  to  her  the  soldier  pantaloons  of  last 
year,  and  the  bullwhacker's  straw  hat  of  '79,  are 
obnoxious  ? 

She  is  like  her  sex,  and  her  joy  is  fractured  by 
the  knowledge  that  her  moccasins  are  down  at 
the  heel,  and  her  stockings  existing  in  the  realms 
of  fancy.  We  should  not  look  with  scorn  upon 
Mrs.  Bise-up-William-Riley,  for  hope  is  dead  in 
her  breast,  and  the  wigwam  is  desolate  in  the 
sage-brush. 

Daughter  of  a  great  nation,  we  are  not  mad  at 
you.  You  are  not  to  be  blamed  because  the  repub- 
lican party  has  busted  your  crust.  We  do  not  hate 
you  because  you  eat  your  steak  rare  and  wear 
your  own  hair.  It  is  your  own  right  to  do  so  if 
you  wish.  Brace  up,  therefore,  and  take  a  tumble, 
as  it  were,  and  try  to  be  cheerful.  "We  will  not 
massacre  you  if  you  will  not  massacre  us.  All  we 
want  is  peace,  and  you  can  wear  what  you  like, 
only  wear  something,  if  you  please,  when  you 
come  into  our  society.  We  do  not  ask  you  to 
conform  strictly  to  our  false  and  peculiar  cos- 
tumes, but  wear  something  to  protect  you  from 


AUTUMN  THOUGHTS. 


49 


the  chilling  blasts  of  winter  and  you  will  win  our  . 
respect.  You  needn't  mingle  in  our  society  much 
if  you  do  not  choose  to,  but  wrap  yourself  up  in 
most  any  kind  of  clothing  that  will  silence  the 
tongue  of  slander,  and  try  to  quit  drinking.  You 
would  get  along  first-rate  if  you  would  only  let 
liquor  alone.  Do  not  try  to  drown  your  sorrows 
in  the  flowing  bowl.  It's  expensive  and  unsatis- 
factory. Take  our  advice  and  swear  off.  We 
have  tried  it,  and  we  know  what  we  are  talking 
about. 

You  have  a  glorious  future  before  you,  if  you 
will  cease  to  drink  the  vintage  of  the  pale  face, 
and  monkey  with  petty  larceny.  Look  at  Poca- 
hontas and  Mrs.  Tecumseh.  They  didn't  drink. 
They  were  women  of  no  more  ability  than  you 
have,  but  they  were  high-toned,  and  they  got 
there,  Eli.  Now  they  are  known  to  history  along 
with  Cornwallis  and  Payne.  You  can  do  the  same 
if  you  choose  to.  Do  not  be  content  to  lead  a 
yellow  dog  around  by  a  string  and  get  inebriated, 
but  rise  up  out  of  the  alkali  dust,  and  resolve  that 
you  will  shun  the  demon  of  drink. 

You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself. 


THE  MAN  WHO  INTERRUPTS. 


I DO  not,  as  a  rule,  thirst  for  the  blood  of  my 
fellow-man.  I  am  willing  that  the  law  should 
in  all  ordinary  cases  take  its  course,  but  when  we 
be°in  to  discuss  the  man  who  breaks  into  a  con- 
versation  and  ruins  it  with  his  own  irrelevant 
ideas,  regardless  of  the  feelings  of  humanity,  I  am 
not  a  law  and  order  man.  The  spirit  of  the  "  Eed 
Vigilanter"  is  roused  in  my  breast  and  I  hunger 
for  the  blood  of  that  man. 

Interrupters  are  of  two  classes :  First,  the  com- 
mon plug  who  thinks  aloud,  and  whose  conversa- 
tion wanders  with  his  so-called  mind.  He  breaks 
into  the  saddest  and  sweetest  of  sentiment,  and 
the  choicest  and  most  tearful  of  pathos,  with  the 
remorseless  ignorance  that  marks  a  stump-tail  cow 
in  a  dahlia  bed.  He  is  the  bull  in  my  china  shop, 
the  wormwood  in  my  wine,  and  the  kerosene  in 
my  maple  syrup.  I  am  shy  in  conversation,  and 
my  unfettered  flights  of  poesy  and  sentiment  are 
rare,  but  this  man  is  always  near  to  mar  it  all 
with  a  remark,  or  a  marginal  note,  or  a  story  or 
a  bit  of  politics,  ready  to  bust  my  beautiful  dream 
and  make  me  wish  that  his  name  might  be  carved 
50 


THE  MAN  WHO  INTERRUPTS. 


51 


on  a  marble  slab  in  some  quiet  cemetery,  far 
away. 

Dear  reader,  did  you  ever  meet  this  man  —  or 
his  wife?  Did  you  ever  strike  some  beautiful 
thought  and  begin  to  reel  it  off  to  your  friends 
only  to  be  shut  off  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence  by 
this  choice  and  banner  idiot  of  conversation  ?  If 
so,  come  and  sit  by  me,  and  you  may  pour  your 
woes  into  my  ear,  and  I  in  turn  will  pour  a  few 
gallons  into  your  listening  ear. 

I  do  not  care  to  talk  more  than  my  share  of  the 
time,  but  I  would  be  glad  to  arrive  at  a  conclusion 
just  to  see  how  it  would  seem.  I  would  be  so 
pleased  and  so  joyous  to  follow  up  an  anecdote 
till  I  had  reached  the  "nub,"  as  it  were,  to  chase 
argument  home  to  conviction,  and  to  clinch  asser- 
tion with  authority  and  evidence. 

The  second  class  of  interrupters  is  even  worse. 
It  consists  of  the  man  —  and,  I  am  pained  to  state, 
his  wife  also  — who  see  the  general  drift  of  your 
remarks  and  finish  out  your  story,  your  gem  of 
thought  or  your  argument.  It  is  very  seldom 
that  they  do  this  as  you  would  do  it  yourself,  but 
hey  are  kind  and  thoughtful  and  their  services 
are  always  at  hand.  No  matter  how  busy  they 
may  be,  they  will  leave  their  own  work  and  fly 
to  yoar  aid.  With  the  light  of  sympathy  in  their 
eyes,  they  rush  into  the  conversation,  and,  partak- 


52 


BALED  HAY. 


ing  of  your  own  zeal,  they  take  the  words  from 
your  mouth,  and  cheerfully  suck  the  juice  out  of 
your  joke,  handing  back  the  rind  and  hoping  for 
reward.  That  is  where  they  get  left,  so  far  as  I 
am  concerned.  I  am  almost  always  ready  to 
repay  rudeness  with  rudeness,  and  cold  preserved 
gall  with  such  acrid  sarcasm  as  I  may  be  able  to 
secure  at  the  moment.  No  one  will  ever  know 
how  I  yearn  for  the  blood  of  the  interrupter.  At 
night  I  camp  on  his  trail,  and  all  the  day  I  thirst 
for  his  warm  life's  current.  In  my  dreams  I  am 
cutting  his  scalp  loose  with  a  case-knife,  while  my 
fingers  are  twined  in  his  clustering  hair.  I  walk 
over  him  and  promenade  across  his  abdomen  as  I 
slumber.  I  hear  his  ribs  crack,  and  I  see  his 
tongue  hang  over  his  shoulder  as  he  smiles  death's 
mirthful  smile. 

I  do  not  interrupt  a  man  no  more  than  I  would 
tell  him  he  lied.  I  give  him  a  chance  to  win  ap- 
plause or  decomposed  eggs  from  the  audience, 
according  to  what  he  has  to  say,  and  according 
to  the  profundity  of  his  profund.  All  I  want  is 
a  similar  chance  and  room  according  to  my 
strength.  Common  decency  ought  to  govern  con- 
versation without  its  being  necessary  to  hire  an 
umpire  armed  with  a  four-foot  club,  to  announce 
who  is  at  the  bat  and  who  is  on  deck. 

It  is  only  once  in  a  week  or  two  that  the  angel 


THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  COW.  53 

troubles  the  waters  and  stirs  up  the  depths  of  my 
conversational  powers,  and  then  the  chances  are 
that  some  leprous  old  nasty  toad  who  has  been 
hanging  on  the  brink  of  decent  society  for  two 
weeks,  slides  in  with  a  low  kerplunk,  and  my  fair 
blossom  of  thought  that  has  been  trying  for  weeks 
to  bloom,  withers  and  goes  to  seed,  while  the  man 
with  the  chilled  steel  and  copper-riveted  brow, 
and  a  wad  of  self-esteem  on  his  intellectual  bal- 
cony as  big  as  an  inkstand,  walks  slowly  away  to 
think  of  some  other  dazzling  gem,  and  thus  be 
ready  to  bust  my  beautiful  phantom,  and  tear  out 
my  high-priced  bulbs  of  fancy  the  next  time  I 
open  my  mouth. 


THE  EOOKY  MOUNTAIN  COW. 


rp HE  attention  of  the  Eocky  Mountain  Detec- 
-L  tive  Association  is  respectfully  called  to  a 
large  bay  cow,  who  is  hanging  around  this  place 
under  an  assumed  name.  She  has  no  visible 
means  of  support,  and  has  been  seen  trying  to 
catch  the  combination  to  the  safes  of  several  of 
our  business  men  here.  She  has  also  stolen  into 
our  lot  several  times  and  eaten  two  or  three 
lengths  of  stovepipe  that  we  neglected  to  lock  up. 


PRESERVING  EGGS. 


THE  Scientific  American  gives  this  as  an 
excellent  mode  of  preserving  eggs:  "Take 
fresh,  ones,  put  a  dozen  or  more  into  a  small 
willow  basket,  and  immerse  this  for  five  seconds 
in  boiling  water,  containing  about  five  pounds  of 
common  brown  sugar  per  gallon.  Then  pack, 
when  cool,  small  ends  down,  in  an  intimate  mix- 
ture of  one  part  of  finely  powdered  charcoal  and 
two  of  dry  bran.  In  this  way  they  will  last  six 
months  or  more.  The  scalding  water  causes  the 
formation  of  a  thin  skin  of  hard  albumen  near 
the  inner  surface  of  the  shell,  and  the  sugar  of 
syrup  closes  all  the  pores." 

*  The  Scientific  American  neglects,  however,  to 
add  that  when  you  open  them  six  months  after 
they  were  picked  and  preserved,  the  safest  way  is 
to  open  them  out  in  the  alley  with  a  revolver,  at 
sixteen  paces.  When  you  have  succeeded  in 
opening  one,  you  can  jump  on  a  fleet  horse  and 
get  out  of  the  country  before  the  nut  brown 
flavor  catches  up  with  you. 


54 


HUMAN"  ^"ATUEE  OE*  THE 
HALF-SHELL. 


T  AM  up  here  in  Eiver  Falls,  Wisconsin,  and 
-A-  patiently  waiting  for  the  snow-banks  to  wilt 
away  and  gentle  spring  to  come  again.  Gentle 
spring,  as  I  go  to  press,  hath  not  yet  loomed  up. 
Nothing  in  fact  hath  loomed  up,  as  yet,  save  the 
great  Dakota  boom.  Everybody,  from  the  ser- 
vant girl  with  the  symphony  in  smut  on  her  face 
and  the  boundless  waste  of  freckles  athwart  her 
nose,  up  to  the  normal  school  graduate,  with 
enough  knowledge  to  start  a  grist  mill  for  the 
gods,  has  "a  claim"  in  the  promised  land,  the 
great  wild  goose  orchard  and  tadpole  aquarium 
of  the  new  Northwest. 

The  honest  farmer  deserts  his  farm,  around 
which  clusters  a  thousand  memories  of  the  past, 
and  buckling  on  his  web  feet,  he  flees  to  the  frog 
ponds  of  the  great  northern  watershed,  to  make 
a  "  tree  claim,"  and  be  happy. 

Such  is  life.  We  battle  on  bravely  for  years, 
cutting  out  white-oak  grubs,  and  squashing  army 
worms  on  a  shingle,  in  order  that  we  may  dwell 
beneath  our  own  vine  and  plum  tree,  and  then 

m 


56 


BALED  HAY. 


we  sell  and  take  wings  toward  a  wild,  unknown 
country,  where  land  is  dirt  cheap,  where  the 
wicked  cease  from  troubling  and  the  weary  are 
at  rest. 

That  is  where  we  get  left,  if  I  may  be  allowed 
an  Americanism,  or  whatever  it  is.  We  are 
never  at  rest.  The  more  we  emigrate  the  more 
worthless,  unsatisfied  and  trifling  we  become.  I 
have  seen  the  same  family  go  through  Laramie 
City  six  times  because  they  knew  not  of  content- 
ment. The  first  time  they  went  west  in  a  Pull- 
man car  "for  their  health."  The  husband  rashly 
told  a  sad-eyed  man  that  he  lied,  and  in  a  little 
while  the  sun  was  obscured  by  loose  teeth  and 
hair.  The  ground  was  torn  up  and  vegetation 
was  killed  where  the  discussion  was  held. 

Then  the  family  went  home  to  Toledo.  They 
went  in  a  day  coach  and  said  a  Pullman  car  was 
full  of  malaria  and  death.  Their  relatives  made 
sport  of  them  and  lifted  up  their  yawp  and 
yawped  at  them  insomuch  that  the  yawpness 
thereof  was  as  the  town  caucus  for  might.  Then 
the  tourists  on  the  following  spring  packed  up 
two  pillows,  and  a  pink  comforter,  and  a  change 
of  raiment,  and  gat  them  onto  the  emigrant  train 
and  journeyed  into  the  land  which  is  called  Ari- 
zona, where  the  tarantula  climbeth  up  on  the 
innerside  of  the  pantaloon  and  tickleth  the  limb 


A  FRIGID  ROUTE. 


57 


of  the  pilgrim  as  he  journeyeth,  and  behold  hs 
getteth  in  his  work,  and  the  leg  of  that  man  is 
greater  than  it  was  aforetime,  even  like  unto  the 
leg  of  a  piano. 


A  FKIGID  KOTJTE. 


rpHEKE'S  no  doubt  but  that  the  Fort  Collins 
J-  route  to  the  North  Park,  is  a  good,  practica- 
ble route,  but  the  only  man  who  has  started  out 
over  it  this  spring  fetched  up  in  the  New  Jerusa- 
lem. 

The  trouble  with  that  line  of  travel  is,  that  the 
temperature  is  too  short.  The  summer  on  the 
Fort  Collins  route  is  noted  mainly  for  its  brevity. 
It  lasts  about  as  long  as  an  ordinary  eclipse  of  the 
sun. 

The  man  who  undertook  to  go  over  the  road 
this  spring  on  snow  shoes,  with  a  load  consisting 
of  ten  cents'  worth  of  fine  cut  tobacco,  has  not 
been  heard  from  yet  at  either  end  of  the  line,  and 
he  is  supposed  to  have  perished,  or  else  he  is  still 
in  search  of  an  open  polar  sea. 

It  is  hoped  that  dog  days  will  bring  him  to  the 
surface,  but  if  the  winter  comes  on  as  early  this 
fall  as  there  are  grave  reasons  to  fear,  a  man 
couldn't  get  over  the  divide  in  the  short  space  of 


5S 


BALED  RAY. 


time  which  will  intervene  between  Decoration  day 
and  Christmas. 

We  hate  to  discourage  people  who  have  an  idea 
of  going  over  the  Fort  Collins  road  to  North 
Park,  but  would  suggest  that  preparations  be 
made  in  advance  for  about  five  hundred  St.  Ber- 
nard dogs  and  a  large  supply  of  arctic  whisky,  to 
be  placed  on  file  where  it  can  be  got  at  without 
a  moment's  delay. 


TOO  CONTIGUOUS. 


THEEE  is  a  firm  on  Coyote  creek,  in  New 
Jersey,  that  would  like  to  advertise  in  The 
Boomerang,  and  the  members  of  the  firm  are  evi- 
dently good  square  men,  although  they  are  not 
large.  They  lack  about  four  feet  in  stature  of 
being  large  enough  to  come  within  the  range  of 
our  vision. 

They  have  got  more  pure  gall  to  the  superficial 
foot  than  anybody  we  ever  heard  of.  It  seems 
that  the  house  has  a  lot  of  vermifuge  to  feed 
plants,  and  a  bedbug  tonic  that  it  wants  to  bring 
before  the  public,  and  it  wants  us  to  devote  a 
quarter  of  a  column  every  day  to  the  merits  of 
these  bug  and  worm  discouragers,  and  then  take 


TOO  CONTIGUOUS. 


59 


our  pay  out  of  tickets  in  the  drawing  of  a  brindle 
dog  next  spring. 

We  might  as  well  come  right  out  ?nd  state  that 
we  are  not  publishing  this  paper  for  our  health, 
nor  because  we  like  to  loll  around  in  luxury  all 
day  in  the  voluptuous  office  of  the  staff.  We  have 
mercenary  motives,  and  we  can't  work  off  wheezy 
parlor  organs  and  patent  corn  plasters  and  thresh- 
ing machines  very  well.  We  desire  the  scads.  We 
can  use  them  in  our  business,  and  we  are  gather- 
ing them  in  just  as  f ast'as  we  can.  At  the  present 
time  we  are  pretty  well  supplied  with  rectangular 
churns  and  stem-winding  mouse  traps.  We  do 
not  need  them,  A  takes  too  much  time  to  hy- 
pothecate them. 

In  closing,  we  will  add,  that  New  Jersey  people 
will  not  be  charged  much  more  for  advertising 
space*  than  Wyoming  people.  We  have  made 
special  rates  so  that  we  can  give  the  patrons  of 
the  East  almost  as  good  terms  as  our  home 
advertisers. 


THE  AMENDE  HOITOKABLE. 


IT  is  rather  interesting  to  watch  the  manner  by 
which  old  customs  have  been  slightly  changed 
and  handed  down  from  age  to  age.  Peculiarities 
of  old  traditions  still  linger  among  us,  and  are 
forked  over  to  posterity  like  a  wappy-jawed  tea- 
pot or  a  long-time  mortgage.  No  one  can  explain 
it,  but  the  fact  still  remains  patent  that  some  of 
the  oddities  of  our  ancestors  continue  to  appear 
from  time  to  time,  clothed  in  -the  changing  cos- 
tumes of  the  prevailing  fashion. 

Along  with  these  choice  antiquities,  and  carry- 
ing" the  nut-brown  flavor  of  the  dead  and  relent- 
less  years,  comes  the  amende  honorable.  From 
the  original  amende  in  which  the  offender  appeared 
in  public  clothed  only  in  a  cotton-flannel  shirt, 
and  with  a  rope  about  his  neck  as  an  evidence  of 
a  formal  recantation,  down  to  this  day  when 
(sometimes)  the  pale  editor,  in  a  stickful  of  type, 
admits  that  "his  informant  was  in  error,"  the 
amende  honorable  has  marched  along  with  the 
easy  tread  of  time.  The  blue-eyed  moulder  of 
public  opinion,  with  one  suspender  hanging  down 
at  his  side,  and  writing  on  a  sheet  of  news-copy 
paper,  has  a  more  extensive  costume,  perhaps, 
60 


"HE  SAID  HE  WOULD  GIVE  ME  FOUR  MINUTES." 


THE  AMENDE  HONORABLE.  63 

than  the  old-time  offender  who  bowed  in  the  dust 
m  the  midst  of  the  great  populace,  and  with  a 
halter  under  his  ear  admitted  his  offense,  but  he 
does  not  feel  any  more  cheerful  over  it. 

I  have  been  called  upon  several  times  to  make 
the  amende  honorable,  and  I  admit  that  it  is  not 
an  occasion  of  mirth  and  merriment.  People  who 
come  into  the  editorial  office  to  invest  in  a  retrac- 
tion are  generally  very  healthy,  and  have  a  stiff, 
reserved  manner  that  no  cheerfulness  of  hospitality 
can  soften. 

I  remember  of  an  accident  of  this  kind  which 
occurred  last  summer  in  my  office,  while  I  was 
writing  something  scathing.  A  large  maji  with 
an  air  of  profound  perspiration  about  him,  and  a 
plaid  flannel  shirt,  stepped  into  the  middle  of  the 
room,  and  breathed  in  the  air  that  I  was  not  using. 
He  said  he  would  give  me  four  minutes  in  which 
to  retract,  and  pulled  out  a  watch  by  which  to 
ascertain  the  exact  time.  I  asked  him  if  he  would 
not  allow  me  a  moment  or  two  to  go  over  to  the 
telegraph  office  and  to  wire  my  parents  of  my 
awful  death.  He  said  I  could  walk  out  of  that 
door  when  I  walked  over  his  dead  body.  Then  I 
waited  a  long  time,  until  he  told  me  my  time  was 
up,  and  asked  what  I  was  waiting  for.  I  told  him 
I  was  waiting  for  him  to  die,  so  that  I  could  walk 


64 


BALED  HAY. 


over  his  dead  body.  How  could  I  walk  over  a 
corpse  until  life  was  extinct? 

He  stood  and  looked  at  me  first  in  astonishment, 
afterward  in  pity.  Finally  tears  welled  up  in  his 
eyes,  and  plowed  their  way  down  his  brown  and 
grimy  face.  Then  he  said  that  I  need  not  fear 
him.  "  You  are  safe,"  said  he.  "A  youth  who  is 
so  patient  and  so  cheerful  as  you  are— who  would 
wait  for  a  healthy  man  to  die  so  that  you  could 
meander  over  his  pulseless  remnants,  ought  not  to 
die  a  violent  death.  A  soft-eyed  seraph  like  you, 
who  is  no  more  conversant  with  the  ways  of  this 
world  than  that,  ought  to  be  put  in  a  glass  vial  of 
alchohol  and  preserved.  I  came  up  here  to  kill 
you  and  throw  you  into  the  rain-water  barrel,  but 
now  that  I  know  what  a  patient  disposition  you 
have,  I  shudder  to  think  of  the  crime  I  was  about 
to  commit." 


JOAQUIX  AXD  JUXIATA. 


JOAQUIX  MILLEE  has  just  published  a  new 
book  called  "The  Shadows  of  Shasta."  It  is 
based  on  the  Hiawatha,  Blue  Juniata  romance, 
which  the  average  poet  seems  competent  to  yank 
loose  from  the  history  of  the  sore-eyed  savage  at 
all  times. 


JOAQUIN  AND  JUNIATA. 


65 


Whenever  a  dead-beat  poet  strikes  bedrock  and 
don't  have  shekels  enough  to  buy  a  bowl  of  soup, 
he  writes  an  inspired  ode  to  the  unfettered  horse- 
thief  of  the  west. 

It  is  all  right  so  far  as  we  know.  If  the  poet 
will  wear  out  the  smoke-tanned  child  of  the  forest 
writing  poetry  about  him,  and  then  if  the  child  of 
the  forest  will  rise  up  in  his  death  struggle  and 
mash  the  never-dying  soul  out  of  the  white-livered 
poet,  everything  will  be  O.  K.,  and  we  will  pay 
the  funeral  expenses. 

If  it  could  be  so  arranged  that  the  poet  and  the 
bright  Alf arita  bug-eater  and  the  bilious  wild-eyed 
bard  of  the  backwoods  could  be  shut  up  in  a  cor- 
ral for  six  weeks  together,  with  nothing  to  eat  but 
each  other,  it  would  be  a  big  thing  for  humanity. 
We  said  once  that  we  wouldn't  dictate  to  this  ad- 
ministration, but  let  it  flicker  along  alone.  We 
just  throw  out  the  above  as  a  suggestion,  however, 
hoping  that  it  will  not  be  ignored. 


SOME  VAG-UE  THOUGHTS. 


PKING,  gentle,  touchful.  tuneful,  breezeful, 


^  soothf ul  spring  is  here.  It  has  not  been  here 
-more  than  twenty  minutes,  and  my  arctics  stand 
where  I  can  reach  them  in  case  it  should  change 
its  mind. 

The  bobolink  sits  on  the  basswood  vines,  and 
the  thrush  in  the  gooseberry  tree  is  as  melodious 
as  a  hired  man.  The  robin  is  building  his  nest  — 
or  rather  her  nest,  I  should  say,  perhaps  —  in  the 
boughs  of  the  old  willow  that  was  last  year  busted 
by  thunder  — I  beg  your  pardon— by  lightning,  I 
should  say.  The  speckled  calf  dines  teat-a-teat 
with  his  mother,  and  strawberries  are  like  a  bald- 
headed  man's  brow — they  come  high,  but  we  can't 
get  along  without  them. 

I  never  was  more  tickled  to  meet  gentle  spring 
than  I  am  now.  It  stirs  up  my  drug-soaked  re- 
mains, and  warms  the  genial  current  of  life  con- 
siderably. I  frolicked  around  in  the  grass  this 
afternoon  and  filled  my  pockets  full  of  1000-legged 
worms,  and  other  little  mementoes  of  the  season. 
The  little  bare-foot  boy  now  comes  forth  and 
walks  with  a  cautious  tread  at  first,  like  a  blind 
horse ;  but  toward  the  golden  autumn  the  backs 


66 


SOME  VAGUE  THOUGHTS. 


67 


of  his  feet  will  look  like  a  warty  toad,  and  there 
will  be  big  cracks  in  them,  and  one  toe  will  be 
wrapped  up  in  part  of  a  bed  quilt,  and  he  will 
show  it  with  pride  to  crowded  houses. 

Last  night  I  lay  awake  for  several  hours  think- 
ing about  Mr.  Sherrod  and  how  long  we  had  been 
separated,  and  I  was  wondering  how  many  weary 
days  would  have  to  elapse  before  we  would  again 
look  into  each  other's  eyes  and  hold  each  other 
by  the  hand,  when  the  loud  and  violent  concus- 
sion of  a  revolver  shot  near  West  Main  street  and 
Cascade  avenue  rent  the  sable  robe  of  night.  I 
rose  and  lit  the  gas  to  see  if  I  had  been  hit.  Then 
I  examined  my  pockets  to  see  if  I  had  been 
robbed  of  my  led  pencil  and  season  pass.  I  found 
that  I  had  not. 

This  morning  I  learned  that  a  young  doctor, 
who  had  been  watching  his  own  house  from  a 
distance  during  the  evening,  had  discovered  that, 
taking  advantage  of  the  husband's  absence,  a 
blonde  dry  goods  clerk  had  called  to  see  the 
crooked  but  lonely  wife.  The  doctor  waited 
until  the  young  man  had  been  in  the  house  long 
enough  to  get  pretty  well  acquainted,  and  then 
he  went  in  himself  to  see  that  the  youth  was 
making  himself  perfectly  comfortable. 

There  was  a  wild  dash  toward  the  window, 
made  by  a  blonde  man  with  his  pantaloons  in  his 


BALED  HAY. 


hand,  the  spatter  of  a  bullet  in  the  wall  over  the 
young  man's  head  and  then  all  was  still  for  a 
moment  save  the  low  sob  of  a  woman  with  her 
head  covered  up  by  the  bed  clothes.    Then  the 
two  men  clinched  and  the  doctor  injected  the  bar- 
rel of  a  thirty-two  self-cocker  up  the  bridge  of 
the  young  man's  nose,  knocked  him  under  the 
wash  stand,  yanked  him  out  by  the  hem  of  his 
garment  and  jarred  him  into  the  coal  bucket, 
kicked  him  up  on  a  corner  bracket  and  then 
swept  the  quivering  ruins  into  the  street  with  a 
stub-broom.    He  then  lit  the  chandelier  and  told 
his  sobbing  wife  that  she  wasn't  just  the  tempera- 
ment for  him  and  he  was  afraid  that  their  paths 
might  diverge.    He  didn't  care  much  for  com- 
pany and  society  while  she  seemed  to  yearn  for 
such  things  constantly.    He  came  right  out  and 
admitted  that  he  was  of  a  nervous  temperament 
and  quick  tempered.    He  loved  her,  but  he  had 
such  an  irritable,  fiery  disposition  that  he  guessed 
he  would  have  to  excuse  her ;  so  he  escorted  her 
out  to  the  gate  and  told  her  where  the  best  hotel 
was,  came  in,  drove  out  the  cat,  blew  out  the  light 
and  retired. 

Some  men  seem  almost  like  brutes  in  their 
treatment  of  their  wives.  They  come  home  at 
some  eccentric  hour  of  the  night,  and  because 
they  have  to  sleep  on  the  lounge,  they  get  mad 


THE  YOUMORIST. 


69 


and  try  to  shoot  holes  in  the  lambrequins,  and 
look  at  their  wives  in  a  harsh,  rude  tone  of  voice. 
I  tell  you  it's  tough. 


THE  YOUMOEIST. 


^TOU  are  an  youmorist,  are  you  not?"  que- 
-L    ried  a  long-billed  pelican  addressing  a 
thoughtful,  mental  athlete,  on  the  Milwaukee  & 
St.  Paul  road  the  other  day. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  sorrowful  man,  brushing 
away  a  tear.  "  I  am  an  youmorist.  I  am  not  very 
much  so,  but  still  I  can  see  that  I  am  drifting  that 
way.  And  yet  I  was  once  joyous  and  happy  as 
you  are.  Only  a  few  years  ago,  before  I  was  ex- 
posed to  this  malady,  I  was  as  blithe  as  a  speckled 
yearling,  and  recked  not  of  aught  — nor  any  thing- 
else,  either.  Now  my  whole  life  is  blasted.  I  do 
not  dare  to  eat  pie  or  preserves,  and  no  one  tells 
funny  stories  when  I  am  near.  They  regard  me 
as  a  professional,  and  when  I  get  in  sight  the 
' scrub  nine'  close  up  and  wait  for  me  to  entertain 
the  crowd  and  waddle  around  the  ring-." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  murmured  the 
purple-nosed  interrogation  point. 

"Mean?  Why,  I  mean  that  whether  I'm  draw- 
ing a  salary  or  not,  I'm  expected  to  be  the  'life  of 


70 


BALED  HAY. 


the  party.'  I  don't  want  to  be  the  life  of  the 
party.  I  want  to  let  some  one  else  be  the  life 
of  the  party.  I  want  to  get  up  the  reputation  of 
being  as  cross  as  a  bear  with  a  sore  head.  I  want 
people  to  watch  their  children  for  fear  I'll  swal- 
low them.  I  want  to  take  my  low-cut-evening- 
dress  smile  and  put  it  in  the  bureau  drawer,  and 
tell  the  world  I've  got  a  cancer  in  my  stomach, 
and  the  heaves  and  hypochondria,  and  a  malig- 
nant case  of  leprosy." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  do  not  feel  face- 
tious all  the  time,  and  that  you  get  weary  of  be- 
ing an  youmorist?" 

"Yes,  hungry  interlocutor.  Yes,  low-browed 
student,  yes.  I  am  not  always  tickled.  Did  you 
ever  have  a  large,  angry,  and  abnormally  protu- 
berent  boil  somewhere  on  your  person  where  it 
seemed  to  be  in  the  way?  Did  you  ever  have 
such  a  boil  as  a  traveling  companion,  and  then  get 
introduced  to  people  as  an  youmorist?  You  have 
not?  Well,  then,  you  do  not  know  all  there  is  of 
suffering  in  this  sorrow-streaked  world..  "When 
wealthy  people  die  why  don't  they  endow  a  cast- 
iron  castle  with  a  draw-bridge  to  it  and  call  it  the 
youmorists'  retreat?  Why  don't  they  do  some 
good  with  their  money  instead  of  fooling  it  away 
on  those  who  are  comparatively  happy?" 


THE  YOUMORIST. 


71 


"  But  how  did  you  come  to  git  to  be  an  youmor- 
tat?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  I  blame  my  parents  some. 
They  might  have  prevented  it  if  they'd  taken  it 
in  time,  but  they  didn't.  They  let  it  run  on  till 
it  got  established,  and  now  its  no  use  to  go  to  the 
Hot  Springs  or  to  the  mountains,  or  have  an  ope- 
ration performed.  You  let  a  man  get  the  name 
of  being  an  youmorist  and  he  doesn't  dare  to  reg- 
ister at  the  hotels,  and  he  has  to  travel  anony- 
mously, and  mark  his  clothes  with  his  wife's  name, 
or  the  public  will  lynch  him  if  he  doesn't  say 
something  youmorous. 

"Where  is  your  boy  to-night?"  continued  the 
gloomy  humorist.  "  Do  you  know  where  he  is  ? 
Is  he  at  home  under  your  watchful  eye,  or  is  he 
away  somewhere  nailing  the  handles  on  his  first 
little  joke?  Parent,  beware.  Teach  your  boy  to 
beware.  Watch  him  night  and  day,  or  all  at  onae, 
when  he  is  beyond  your  jurisdiction,  he  will  grow 
pale.  He  will  have  a  far-away  look  in  his  eye, 
and  the  bright,  rosy  lad  will  have  become  the  flat- 
chested,  joyless  youmorist. 

"  It's  hard  to  speak  unkindly  of  our  parents,  but 
mingled  with  my  own  remorse  I  shall  always 
murmur  to  myself,  and  ask  over  and  over,  why 
did  not  my  parents  rescue  me  while  they  could  ? 
Why  did  they  allow  my  chubby  little  feet  to  wad- 


72 


BALED  HAY. 


die  down  to  the  dangerous  ground  on  which  the 
sad-eyed  ,youniorist  must  forever  stand? 

"  Partner,  do  not  forget  what  I  have  said  to-day. 
Whether  your  child  be  a  son  or  daughter,  it  mat- 
ters not.  Discourage  the  first  sign  of  approach- 
ing humor.  It  is  easier  to  bust  the  backbone  of 
the  first  little,  tender  jokelet  that  sticks  its  head 
through  the  virgin  soil,  than  it  is  to  allow  the 
slimy  folds  of  your  son's  youmorous  lecture  to  be 
wrapped  about  you,  and  to  bring  your  gray  hairs 
with  sorrow  to  the  grave." 


MY  CABINET. 


I HAVE  made  a  small  collection  of  wild, 
western  things  during  the  past  seven  years, 
and  have  put  them  together,  hoping  some  day, 
when  I  get  feeble,  to  travel  with  the  aggregation 
and  erect  a  large  monument  of  kopecks  for  my 
executors,  administrators  and  assigns  forever. 

Beginning  with  the  skull  of  old  Hi-lo-Jack-and- 
the-game,  a  Sioux  brave,  the  collection  takes  in  my 
wonderful  bird,  known  as  the  AYalk-up-the-creek, 
and  another  rara  avis,  with  carnivorous  bill  and 
web  feet,  which  has  astonished  everyone  except 
the  taxidermist  and  myself.  An  old  grizzly  bear 
hunter — who  has  plowed  corn  all  his  life  and 


MY  CABINET, 


73 


don't  know  a  coyote  from  a  Maverick  steer  — 
looked  at  it  last  fall  and  pronounced  it  a  "king- 
fisher," said  he  had  killed  one  like  it  a  year  ago. 
Then  I  knew  that  he  was  a  pilgrim  and  a  stran- 
ger, and  that  he  had  bought  his  buckskin  coat 
and  bead-trimmed  moccasins  at  Niagara  Falls,  for 
the  bird  is  constructed  of  an  eagle's  head,  a  can- 
vas back  duck's  bust  and  feet,  with  the  balance 
sage  hen  and  baled  hay. 

Last  fall  I  desired  to  add  to  my  rare  collection 
a  large  hornet's  nest.  I  had  an  embalmed  taran- 
tula and  her  porcelain-lined  nest,  and  I  desired  to 
add  to  these  the  gray  and  airy  home  of  the  hor- 
net. I  procured  one  of  the  large  size  after  cold 
weather  and  hung  it  in  my  cabinet  by  a  string. 
I  forgot  about  it  until  this  spring.  When  warm 
weather  came,  something  reminded  me  of  it.  I 
think  it  was  a  hornet.  He  jogged  my  memory  in 
some  way  and  called  my  attention  to  it.  '  Memory 
is  not  located  where  I  thought  it  was.  It  seemed 
as  though  whenever  he  touched  me  he  awakened 
a  memory  — a  warm  memory  with  a  red  place 
all  around  it. 

Then  some  more  hornets  came  and  began  to 
rake  up  old  personalities.  I  remember  that  one 
of  them  lit  on  my  upper  lip.  He  thought  it  was 
a  rosebud.  When  he  went  away  it  looked  like  a 
gladiola  bulb.    I  wrapped  a  wet  sheet  around  it 


74 


BALED  HAY. 


to  take  out  the  warmth  and  reduce  the  swelling 
so  that  I  could  go  through  the  folding  doors  and 
tell  my  wife  about  it. 

Hornets  lit  all  over  me  and  walked  around  on 
my  person.  I  did  not  dare  to  scrape  them  off 
because  they  are  so  sensitive.  You  have  to  be 
very  guarded  in  your  conduct  toward  a  hornet. 

I  remember  once  while  I  was  watching  the 
busy  little  hornet  gathering  honey  and  June  bugs 
from  the  bosom  of  a  rose,  years  ago,  I  stirred 
him  up  with  a  club,  more  as  a  practical  joke  than 
anything  else,  and  he  came  and  lit  in  my  sunny 
hair  __  that  was  when  I  wore  my  own  hair— and 
he  walked  around  through  my  gleaming  tresses 
quite  awhile,  making  tracks  as  large  as  a  water- 
melon all  over  my  head.  If  he  hadn't  run  out  of 
tracks  my  head  would  have  looked  like  a  load  of 
summer  squashes.  I  remember  I  had  to  thump 
my  head  against  the  smoke-house  in  order  to 
smash  him,  and  I  had  to  comb  him  out  with  a 
fine  comb,  and  wear  a  waste-paper  basket  two 
weeks  for  a  hat. 

Much  has  been  said  of  the  hornet,  but  he  has 
an  odd,  quaint  way  after  all,  that  is  forever  new. 


HEALTH  FOOD. 


HILE  trying  to  reconstruct  a  telescoped 


J  ▼  spine  and  put  some  new  copper  rivets  in 
the  lumbar  vertebrae,  this  spring,  I  have  had 
occasion  to  thoroughly  investigate  the  subject  of 
so-called  health  food,  such  as  gruels,  beef  tea 
inundations,  toasts,  oat  meal  mush,  bran  mash, 
soups,  condition  powders,  graham  gem,  grouhd 
feed,  pepsin,  laudable  mush,  and  other  hen  feed 
usually  poked  into  the  invalid  who  is  too  weak 
to  defend  himself. 

Of  course  it  stands  to  reason  that  the  reluctant 
and  fluttering  spirit  may  not  be  won  back  to 
earth,  and  joy  once  more  beam  in  the  leaden  eye 
unless  due  care  be  taken  relative  to  the  food  by 
means  of  which  nature  may  be  made  to  assert 
herself. 

I  do  not  care  to  say  to  the  world  through  the 
columns  of  the  Free  Press,  that  we  may  woo 
from  eternity  the  trembling  life  with  pie.  "Welsh 
rabbit  and  other  wild  game  will  not  do  at  first. 
But  I  think  I  am  speaking  the  sentiments  of  a 
large  and  emaciated  constituency  when  I  say,  that 
there  is  getting  to  be  a  strong  feeling  against  oat 


75 


76  BALED  HAY 

meal  submerged  in  milk  and  in  favor  of  straw- 
berry short  cake. 

I  almost  ate  myself  into  an  early  grave  in  April 
by  living  into  the  face  of  Providence  and  demor- 
alizing old  Gastric  with  oat  meal.  I  ate  oat  meal 
two  weeks,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  my  friends 
were  telegraphed  for.  but  before  it  was  too  late, 
I  threw  off  the  shackles  that  bound  me.  With  a 
desperation  born  of  a  terrible  apprehension.  I 
rose  and  shook  off  the  fatal  oat  meal  habit  and 
began  to  eat  beefsteak.  At  first  fife  hung  tremb- 
ling in  the  balance  and  there  was  no  change  in 
the  quotations  of  beef,  but  later  on  there  was  a 
slight,  delicate  bloom  on  the  wan  cheek,  and 
range  cattle  that  had  barely  escaped  a  long,  severe 
winter  on  the  plains,  began  to  apprehend  a  new 
danger  and  to  seek  the  secluded  canyons  of  the 
inaccessible  mountains. 

I  often  thought  while  I  was  eating  health  food 
and  waiting  for  death,  how  the  doctor  and  other 
invited  guests  at  the  post  mortem  would  start 
back  in  amazement  to  find  the  remnants  of  -an 
eminent  man  filled  with  bran ! 

Through  all  the  painful  hours  of  the  long,  long 
night  and  the  eventless  day.  while  the  mad  throng 
rushed  onward  like  a  great  river  toward  eterni- 
ty's ocean,  this  thought  was  uppermost  in  my 
mind.    I  tried  to  get  the  physician  to  promise 


HEALTH  FOOD. 


77 


that  he  would  not  expose  me,  and  show  the  world 
what  a  hollow  mockery  I  had  been,  and  how  I  had 
deceived  my  best  friends.  I  told  him  the  whole 
truth,  and  asked  him  to  spare  my  family  the  hu- 
miliation of  knowing  that  though  I  might  have 
led  a  blameless  life,  my  sunny  exterior  was  only  a 
thin  covering  for  bran  and  shorts  and  middlings, 
cracked  wheat  and  pearl  barley. 

I  dreamed  last  night  of  being  in  a  large  city 
where  the  streets  were  paved  with  dry  toast,  and 
the  buildings  were  roofed  with  toast,  and  the  soil 
was  bran  and  oat  meal,  and  the  water  was  beef 
tea  and  gruel.  All  at  once  it  came  over  me  that 
I  had  solved  the  great  mystery  of  death,  and  had 
been  consigned  to  a  place  of  eternal  punishment 
The  thought  was  horrible !  A  million  eternities 
in  a  city  built  of  dry  toast  and  oat  meal !  A  home 
for  never-ending  cycles  of  ages,  where  the  princi- 
pal hotel  and  the  post-office  building  and  the  opera 
house  were  all  built  of  toast,  and  the  fire  depart- 
ment squirted  gruel  at  the  devouring  element  for- 
ever! 

It  was  only  a  dream,  but  it  has  made  me  more 
thoughtful,  and  people  notice  that  I  am  not  so 
giddy  as  I  was. 


A  KEW  POET. 


ANEW  and  dazzling  literary  star  has  risen 
above  the  horizon,  and  is  just  about  to  shoot 
athwart  the  starry  vault  of  poesy.  How  wisely 
are  all  things  ordered,  and  how  promptly  does 
the  new  star  begin  to  beam,  upon  the  decline  of 
the  old. 

Hardly  had  the  sweet  singer  of  Michigan  com- 
menced to  wane  and  to  flicker,  when,  rising  above 
the  western  hills,  the  glad  light  of  the  rising  star 
is  seen,  and  adown  the  canyons  and  gulches  of  the 
Rocky  mountains  comes  the  melodious  cadences 
of  the  poet  of  the  Greeley  Eye. 

Couched  in  the  rough  terms  of  the  west ;  robed 
in  the  untutored  language  of  the  Michael  Angelo 
slang  of  the  miner  and  the  cowboy,  the  poet  at 
first  twitters  a  little  on  a  bough  far  up  the  canyon, 
gradually  waking  the  echoes^  until ;  the, 'song  is 
taken  up  and  handed  back  b}T  every  rock  and  crag 
along  the  rugged  ramparts  of  the  mighty  moun- 
tain barrier. 

Listen  to  the  opening  stanza  of  "The  Dying 
Cowboy  and  the  Preacher : " 


78 


A  NEW  POET. 


79 


So,  old  gospel  shark,  they  tell  me  I  must  die ; 
That  the  wheels  of  life's  wagon  have  rolled  into  their  last  rut, 
Well,  I  will  "pass  in  my  checks"  without  a  whimper  or  a  cry, 
And  die  as  I  have  lived — "  a  hard  nut." 

This  is  no  time-worn  simile,  no  hackneyed 
illustration  or  bald-headed  decrepit  comparison, 
but  a  new,  fresh  illustration  that  appeals  to  the 
western  character,  and  lifts  the  very  soul  out  of 
the  kinks,  as  it  were.* 

"Wheels  of  life's  wagon  have  rolled  into  their  last  rut." 
Ah!  how  true  to  nature  and  yet  how  grand. 
How  broad  and  sweeping.  How  melodious  and 
yet  how  real.  None  but  the  true  poet  would  have 
thought  to  compare  the  close  of  life  to  the  sudden 
and  unfortunate  chuck  of  the  off  hind  wheel  of  a 
lumber  wagon  into  a  rut. 

In  fancy  we  can  see  it  all.  We  hear  the  low, 
sad  kerplunk  of  the  wheel,  the  loud  burst  of  earn- 
est, logical  profanity,  and  then  all  is  still. 

Now  and  then  the  swish  of  a  mule's  tail  through 
the  air,  or  the  sigh  of  the  rawhide  as  it  shimmers 
and  hurtles  through  the  silent  air,  and  then  a  calm 
falls  upon  the  scene.  Anon,  the  driver  bangs  the 
mule  that  is  ostensibly  pulling  his  daylights  out, 
but  who  is,  in  fact,  humping  up  like  an  angle 
worm,  without  pulling  a  pound. 

Then  the  poet  comes  to  the  close  of  the  cow- 
boy's career  in  this  style : 


80 


BALED  HAY. 


<<Do  I  repent? "   No— of  nothing  present  or  past; 
So  skip,  old  preach,  on  gospel  pap  I  won't  be  fed; 
My  breath  comes  hard;  I— am  going— but— I— am  game  to 
the— last. 

And  reckless  of  the  future,  as  the  present,  the  cowboy  was 
dead. 

If  we  could  write  poetry  like  that,  do  you 
think  we  would  plod  along  the  dreary  pathway 
of  the  journalist  I  Do  you  suppose  that  if  we 
had  the  heaven-born  gift  of  song  to  such  a  degree 
that  we  could  take  hold  of  the  hearts  of  millions 
and  warble  two  or  three  little  ditties  like  that,  or 
write  an  effigy  before  breakfast,  or  construct  an 
ionic,  anapestic  twitter  like  the  foregoing,  that 
we  would  carry  in  our  own  coal,  and  trim  our 
own  lamps,  and  wear  a  shirt  two  weeks  at  a  time? 

No,  sir.  We  would  hie  us  away  to  Europe  or 
Salt  Lake,  and  let  our  hair  grow  long,  and  we 
would  write  some  obituary  truck  that  would 
make  people  disgusted  with  life,  and  they  would 
sigh  for  death  that  they  might  leave  their  insur- 
ance and  their  obituaries  to  their  survivors. 


A  WOTCD  IN  SELF-DEFENSE. 


XT  might  be  well  in  closing  to  say  a  word  in 
J-  defense  of  myself. 

The  varied  and  uniformly  erroneous  notions 
expressed  recently  as  to  my  plans  for  the  future, 
naturally  call  for  some  kind  of  an  expression  on 
this  point  over  my  own  signature.  In  the  first 
place,  it  devolves  upon  me  to  regain  my  health  in 
full  if  it  takes  fourteen  years.  I  shall  not,  there- 
fore, "publish  a  book,"  " prepare  an  youmorous 
lecture,"  " visit  Florida,"  "probate  the  estate  of 
Lydia  E.  Pinkham,  deceased,"  nor  make  any  other 
grand  break  till  I  have  once  more  the  old  vigor 
and  elasticity,  and  gurgling  laugh  of  other  days. 

In  the  meantime,  let  it  be  remembered  that  my 
home  is  in  Laramie  City,  and  that  unless  the  com- 
mon council  pass  an  ordinance  against  it,  I  shall 
return  in  July  if  I  can  make  the  trip  between 
snow  storms,  and  evade  the  peculiarities  of  a  tarciv 
and  reluctant  spring.  Bill  Nye. 


6 


81 


pustes  foe  his  old  home. 


TOM  FAG  AN,  of  this  city,  has  a  wild  horse 
that  don't  seem  to  take  to  the  rush  and  hurry 
and  turmoil  of  a  metropolis.    He  has  been  so 
accustomed  to  the  glad,  free  air  of  the  plains  and 
mountains  that  the  hampered  and  false  life  of  a 
throbbing  city,  with  its  myriad  industries,  makes 
him  nervous  and  unhappy.    He  sighs  for  the 
boundless  prairie  and  the  pure  breath  of  the  life- 
giving  mountain  atmosphere.    So  taciturn  is  he  in 
fact,  and  so  cursed  by  homesickness  and  weariness 
of  an  artificial  and  unnatural  horse  society  here 
in  Laramie,  that  he  refuses  to  eat  anything  and  is 
gradually  pining  away.    Sometimes  he  takes  a 
light  lunch  out  of  Mr.  Fagan's  arm,  but  for  days 
and  days  he  utterly  loathes  food.   He  also  loathes 
those  who  try  to  go  into  the  stable  and  fondle 
him.    He  isn't  apparently  very  much  on  the 
fondle.    He  don't  yearn  for  human  society,  but 
seems  to  want  to  be  by  himself  and  think  it  over. 

The  wild  horse  in  stories  soon  learns  to  love  his 
master  and  stay  by  him  and  carry  him  through 
flood  or  fire,  and  generally  knows  more  than  the 
Cyclopedia  Brittanica;  but  this  horse  is  not  the 
historical  horse  that  they  put  into  wild  Arabian 

82 


E  SIGHS  FOR  THE  BOUNDLESS  PRAIRIE." 


PINES  FOR  HIS  OLD  HOME. 


85 


falsehoods.  _  He  is  just  a  plain,  unassuming  wild 
horse  of  Wyoming  descent,  whose  pedigree  is 
slightly  clouded,  and  who  is  sensitive  on  the  ques- 
tion of  his  ancestry.  All  he  wants  is  just  to  be 
let  alone,  and  most  everybody  has  decided  that  he 
is  right.  They  came  to  that  conclusion  after  they 
had  soaked  their  persons  in  arnica  and  glued 
themselves  together  with  poultices. 

Perhaps,  after  a  while,  he  will  conclude  to  eat 
hay  and  grow  up  with  the  country,  but  now*he 
sighs  for  his  native  bunch-grass  and  the  buffalo 
wallow  wherein  he  has  heretofore  made  his  lair. 
We  don't  wonder  much,  though,  that  a  horse  who 
has  lived  in  the  country  should  be  a  little  rattled 
he^e  when  he  finds  the  electric  light,  and  bicycles, 
and  lawn  mowers,  and  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  troupes, 
and  baled  hay  at  $20  per  ton.  It  makes  him  as 
wild  and  skittish  as  it  does  an  eighteen-year-old 
girl  the  first  time  she  comes  into  town,  and  for 
the  first  time  is  met  by  the  blare  of  trumpets,  and 
the  oriental  Avealth  of  the  circus  with  its  deformed 
camels  and  uniformed  tramps  driving  its  miles  of 
cages  with  no  animals  in  them.  The  great  natu- 
ral world  and  the  giddy  maelstrom  of  seething, 
perspiring  humanity,  peculiar  to  the  city  world, 
are  two  separate  and  distinct  existences. 


OIE  TOUCH  OF  MATURE. 


XJP  in  Polk  county,  Wisconsin,  not  long  ago, 
J  a  man  who  had  lost  eight  children  by  diph- 
theria, while  the  ninth  hovered  between  life  and 
death  with  the  same  disease,  went  to  the- health 
officer  of  the  town  and  asked  aid  to  prevent  the 
spread  of  the  terrible  scourge.  The  health  officer 
was  cool  and  collected.  He  did  not  get  excited 
over  the  anguish  of  the  father  whose  last  child 
was  at  that  moment  hovering  upon  the  outskirts 
of  immortality.  He  calmly  investigated  the  matter, 
and  never  for  a  moment  lost  sight  of  the  fact  that 
he  was  a  town  officer  and  a  professed  christian. 

"  You  ask  aid,  I  understand,"  said  he,  "to  pre- 
vent the  spread  of  the  disease,  and  also  that  the 
town  shall  assist  you  in  procuring  new  and  neces- 
sary clothing  to  replace  that  which  you  have 
been  compelled  to  burn  in  order  to  stop  the  fur- 
ther inroads  of  diphtheria.    Am  I  right?" 
The  poor  man  answered  affirmatively. 
«  May  I  ask  if  your  boys  who  died  were  chris- 
tian boys,  and  whether  they  improved  their 
gospel  opportunities  and  attended  the  Sabbath 
school,  or  whether  they  were  profane  and  given 
over  to  Sabbath-breaking?" 

86 


ONE  TOUCH  OF  NATURE. 


87 


The  bereft  father  said  that  his  boys  had  never 
made  a  profession  of  Christianity;  that  they  were 
hardly  old  enough  to  do  so,  and-  that  they  might 
have  missed  some  gospel  opportunities  owing  to 
the  fact  that  they  were  poor,  and  hadn't  clothes 
fit  to  wear  to  Sabbath  school.  Possibly,  too,  they 
had  met  with  wicked  companions,  and  had  been 
taught  to  swear;  he  could  not  say  but  they  might 
have  sworn,  although  he  thought  they  would 
have  turned  out  to  be  good  boys  had  they  lived. 

"I  am  sorry  that  the  case  is  so  bad,"  said  the 
health  officer.  " I  am  led  to  believe  that  God  has 
seen  fit  to  visit  you  with  affliction  in  order  to 
express  His  Divine  disapproval  of  profanity,  and 
I  cannot  help  you.  It  ill  becomes  us  poor,  weak 
worms  of  the  dust  to  meddle  with  the  just  judg- 
ments of  God.  Whether  as  an  individual  or  as  a 
quasi  corporation,  it  is  well  to  allow  the  Almighty 
to  work  out  His  great  plan  of  salvation,  and  to 
avoid  all  carnal  interference  with  the  works  of 
God." 

The  old  man  went  back  to  his  desolated  home 
and  to.the  bedside  of  his  only  living  child.  I  met 
him  yesterday  and  he  told  me  all  about  it. 

"I  am  not  a  professor  of  religion,"  said  he,, 
"but  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Nye,  I  can't  believe  that  this 
board  of  health  has  used  me  right.    Somehow  I 
ain't  worried  about  my  little  fellers  that  is  gone. 


88 


BALED  HAY. 


They  was  little  fellers,  any  way,  and  they  wasn't 
posted  on  the  plan  of  salvation,  but  they  was 
always  kind  and  they  always  minded  me  and 
their  mother.    If  God  is  using  diphtheria  agin 
perfanity  this  season  they  didn't  know  it.  They 
was  too  young  to  know  about  it  and  I  was  too 
poor  to  take  the  papers,  so  I  didn't  know  it 
nntber.    I  just  thought  that  Christ  was  partial  to 
kids  like  mine,  just  the  same  as  He  used  to  be 
2,000  years  ago  when  the  country  was  new.  J 
admit' that  my  little  shavers  never  went  to  Sab- 
bath school  much,  and  I  wasn't  scholar  enough  to 
throw  much  light  onto  Gods  system  of  retribu- 
tion, but  I  told  ,em  to  behave  themselves,  and 
they  did.  and  we  had  a  good  deal  of  fun  together 
—me  and  the  boys— and  they  was  so  bright,  and 
square,  and  cute  that  I  didn't  see  how  they  could 
fall  under  divine  wrath,  and  I  don't  believe  they 
did. 

« I  could  tell  you  lots  of  smart  little  things  that 
they  used  to  do'.  Mr.  Nye,  but  they  want  mean 
and  cussed.  They  was  just  frolicky  and  gay 
sometimes  because  they  felt  good.  I  don't  believe 
God  had  it  in  for  'em  bekuz  they  was  like  other 
boys,  do  you  I  Fer  if  I  thought  so  it  would  kind 
o'  harden  me  and  the  old  lady  and  make  us  sour 
on  all  creation. 

"Mind  you,  I  don't  kick  because  I'm  left  alone 


ONE  TOUCH  OF  NATURE. 


89 


here  in  the  woods,  and  the  sun  don't  seem  to 
shine,  and  the  birds  seems  a  little  backward  about 
singin'  this  spring,  and  the  house  is  so  quiet,  and 
she  is  still  all  the  time  and  cries  in  the  night  when 
she  thinks  I  am  asleep.  All  that  is  tough,  Mr. 
Nye— tough  as  old  Harry,  too— but  its  so,  and  I 
ain't  murmurin',  but  when  the  board  of  health 
says  to  me  that  the  Euler  of  the  Universe  is 
makin'  a  tower  of  Northern  Wisconsin,  mowin' 
down  little  boys  with  sore  throat  because  they 
say  'gosh,'  I  can't  believe  it. 

"I  know  that  people  who  ain't  familiar  with 
the  facts  will  shake  their  heads  and  say  that  I  am 
a  child  of  wrath,  but  I  can't  help  it,  All  I  can 
do  is  to  go  up  there  under  the  trees  where  them 
little  graves  is,  and  think  how  all-fired  pleasant 
to  me  them  little,  short  lives  was,  and  how  every 
one  of  them  little  fellers  was  welcome  when  he 
come,  poor  as  I  was,  and  how  I  rastled  with  poor 
crops  and  pine  stumps  to  buy  cloze  for  'em,  and 
didn't  care  a  cent  for  style  as  Jong  as  they  was 
well  That's  the  kind  of  heretic  I  am,  and  if 
G-od  is  like  a  father  that  settles  iu.  He  wouldn't 
wipe  out  my  family  just  to  establish  discipline,  I 
don't  believe.  The  plan  01  creation  must  be  on 
a  bigger  scale  than  that,  it  seems  to  me,  or  else 
it's  more  or  less  of  a  fizzle. 

"  That  board  of  health  is  better  read  than  I 


90 


BALED  HAY. 


am.  It  takes  the  papers  and  can  add  up  figures, 
and  do  lots  of  things  that  I  can't  do ;  but  when 
them  fellers  tell  me  that  they  represent  the  town 
of  Balsam  Lake  and  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven, 
my  morbid  curiosity  is  aroused,  and  I  want  to  see 
the  stiffykits  of  election." 


HOW  TO  PUT  UP  A  STOYE-PIPE. 


PUTTING  up  stove-pipe  is  easy  enough,  if  you 
only  go  at  it  right.  In  the  morning,  break- 
fast on  some  light,  nutritious  diet,  and  drink  two 
cups  of  hot  coffee ;  after  which  put  on  a  suit  of 
old  clothes— or  new  ones,  if  you  can  get  them  on 
time— put  on  an  old  pair  of  buckskin  gloves,  and, 
when  everything  is  ripe  for  the  fatal  blow,  go 
and  get  a  good  hardware  man  who  understands 
his  business.  If  this  rule  be  strictly  adhered  to, 
the  gorgeous  eighteen-karat-stem-winding  profan- 
ity of  the  present  day  may  be  very  largely  dimin- 
ished, and  the  world  made  better. 


FW  OF  BEING  A  PUBLISHER. 


|.>KI.\(";  a  publisher  is  not  all  sunshine,  joy 
and  johnny-jump-ups,  although  the  gentle 
and  tractable  reader  may  at  times  think  so. 

A  letter  was  received  two  years  ago  by  the 
publishers  of  this  book,  on  the  outside  of  which 
was  the  request  to  the  "  P.  Master  of  Chicago  to 
give  to  the  most  reliable  man  in  Chicago  and 
oblige." 

The  P.  Master  thereupon  gave  the  letter  to 
Messrs.  Belford,  Clarke  &  Co.,  who  have  sent  it 
to  me  as  a  literary  curiosity.  I  want  it  to  go 
down  to  posterity,  so  I  put  it  in  this  great  work. 
I  simply  change  the  names,  and  where  words  are 
too  obscure,  doctor  them  up  a  little : 

Butler,  Bates  county,  Mo.,  Jan.  the  3,  1881. 
I  have  a  novle  fresh  and  pure  from  the  pen, 
wich  I  would  like  to  be  examined  by  you.  I  wish 
to  bring  it  before  the  public  the  ensuing  summer. 
I  have  wrote  a  good  deal  for  the  press,  and  always 
with  great  success.  I  wrote  once  an  article  on 
the  growth  of  pie  plant  wich  was  copied  fur  and 
wide.  You  may  have  heard  of  me  through  my 
poem  on  "The  Cold,  Damp  Sea  or  the  Murmur- 
ing Wave  and  its  Sad  Kerplunk." 

91 


92  BALED  HAT. 

I  dashed  it  off  one  summer  day  for  the  Scab- 
town  Herald. 

In  it,  I  enter  the  fair  field  of  fancy  and  with 
exquisite  word-painting,  I  lead  the  reader  on  and 
on  till  he  forgets  that  breakfast  is  ready,  and  fol- 
lows the  thrilling  career  of  Algonquin  and  his 
own  fair-haired  Sciataca  through  page  after  page 
of  delirious  joy  and  poetic  rithum. 

In  this  novle,  I  have  wove  a  woof  of  possibili- 
ties, criss-crossed  with  pictures  of  my  own  wild, 
unfettered  fancy,  which  makes  it  a  work  at  once 
truthful  and  yet  sufficiently  unnatural  to  make  it 
egorly  sot  for  by  the  great  reading  world. 
The  plot  of  the  novle  is  this : 
Algonquin  is  a  poor  artist,  who  paints  lovely 
sunsets  and  things,  nights,  and  cuts  cordwood 
during  the  day,  struggling  to  win  a  competence 
so  that  he  can  sue  for  the  hand  of  Sciataca,  the 
wealthy  daughter  of  a  plumber. 

She  does  not  love  him  much,  and  treats  him 
coldly ;  but  he  perseveres  till  one  of  his  exquisite 
pictures  is  egorly  snapt  up  by  a  wealthy  man  at 
$2.  The  man  afterwards  turns  out  to  be  Sciata- 
ca's  pa. 

He  says  unkind  things  of  Algonquin,  and  inti- 
mates that  he  is  a  better  artist  in  four-foot  wood 
than  he  is  as  a  sunset  man.  He  says  that  Algon- 
quin is  more  of  a  Michael  Angelo  in  basswood 


FUN  OF  BEING  A  PUBLISHER. 


93 


than  anywhere  else,  and  puts  a  wet  blanket  on 
Sciataca's  love  for  Algonquin. 

Then  Sciataca  grows  colder  than  ever  to  Algon- 
quin, and  engages  herself  to  a  wealthy  journalist. 

Just  as  the  wedding  is  about  to  take  place, 
Algonquin  finds  that  he  is  by  birth  an  Ohio  man. 
Sciataca  repents  and  marries  her  first  love.  He 
secures  the  appointment  of  governor  of  Wyo- 
ming, and  they  remove  to  Cheyenne. 

Then  there  are  many  little  bursts  of  pictur- 
eskness  and  other  things  that  I  would  like  to  see 
in  print. 

I  send  also  a  picture  of  myself  which  I  would 
like  to  have  in  the  book.  Tell  the  artist  to  tone 
down  the  freckles  so  that  the  features  may  be 
seen  by  the  observer,  and  put  on  a  diamond  pin,  so 
that  it  will  have  the  appearance  of  wealth,  which 
the  author  of  a  book  generally  wears. 

It  is  not  wrote  very  good,  but  that  won't  make 
any  difference  when  it  is  in  print. 

When  the  reading  public  begins  to  devour  it, 
and  the  scads  come  rolling  in,  you  can  deduct 
enough  for  to  pay  your  expenses  of  printing  and 
pressing,  and  send  me  the  balance  by  post-office 
money  order.  Please  get  it  on  the  market  as 
soon  as  possible,  as  I  need  a  Swiss  muzzlin  and 
some  other  togs  suitable  to  my  position  in  liter- 
ary circles.       Yours  truly,    Luella  Blinker. 


LUsTGERIE. 


A LADY'S  underwear  is  politely  spoken  of  as 
"lingerie,"  but  the  great  horrid  man  crawls 
into  his  decrepit  last  year's  undershirt  every  Mon- 
day morning,  and  swears  because  his  new  under- 
clothes are  so  " lingerie"  about  making  their 
appearance. 


FRUIT. 


A CLASS  of  croakers  that  one  meets  with 
everywhere,  have  steadily  maintained  that 
fruit  cannot  be  raised  in  this  Territory.  In  con- 
versation with  a  small  boy  yesterday,  we  learned 
that  this  is  not  true.  It  is  very  simple  and  easy 
to  do,  even  in  this  rigorous  climate.  He  showed 
us  how  it  is  done.  He  has  a  small  and  delicately 
constructed  harpoon  with  a  tail  to  it  — the  appa- 
ratus attached  to  a  long  string.  He  goes  into  the 
nearest  market,  and  while  the  clerk  is  cutting  out 
some  choice  steaks  for  the  man  with  the  store 
teeth,  the  boy  throws  his  harpoon  and  hauls  in  on 
the  string.  In  this  way  he  raises  all  kinds  of  fruit, 
not  only  for  his  own  use,  but  he  has  some  to  sell. 
94 


THE  BONE  OF  CONTENTION. 


95 


He  showed  us  some  that  he  raised.  It  was  as  good 
as  any  of  the  fruit  that  we  buy  here,  only  that 
there  was  a  little  hole  on  one  side,  but  that  don't 
hurt  the  fruit  for  immediate  use.  He  "puts  some 
down,"  but  don't  can  or  dry  any.  He  says  that 
he  applies  his  where  he  feels  the  worst.  When  he 
feels  as  though  a  Greening  or  a  Bellflower  would 
help  him,  he  goes  out  and  picks  it.  He  showed 
us  a  string  with  a  grappling  hook  attached,  on 
which  he  had  raised  a  bushel  of  assorted  fruit  this 
fall,  and  it  wasn't  a  very  good  string,  either. 


THE  BOKE  OF  COOTE^TIOK 


rpWO  self-accused  humorists  of  Ohio  have  had 
a  fight  over  the  authorship  of  the  facetious 
phenomenon  and  laugh-jerking  success,  "Who  ever 
saw  a  tree  box  ?"  The  bone  of  contention  between 
these  two  gigantic  minds,  evidently,  is  not  their 
funny-bone. 


COKGEATTTLATOEY. 


I CANNOT  close  this  letter  without  writing 
my  congratulations  to  Mr.  Raymond,  of  The 
Tribune,  upon  the  position  of  Notary  Public,  which 
he  has  secured.    True  merit  cannot  long  go  unre- 
warded.   I,  too,  am  a  Notary  Public.    So  is  Pat- 
terson of  the  Georgetown  Miner.    And  yet  we 
were  all  once  poor  boys,  unknown  and  unrecog- 
nized.   Patterson  was  the  son  of  a  wealthy  editor 
m  Michigan,  who  wished  «  Sniktau"  to  be  a  min- 
ister of  the  everlasting  gospel,  but  "Snik."  knew 
that  he  was  destined  to  enter  upon  a  wider  and 
more  important  field.    He  devoted  himself  to  the 
study  of  profanity  in  all  its  various  branches, 
until  now  he  can  swear  more  men,  and  do  a  big- 
ger "so-help-me-God"  business  than  any  other 
go-as-you-please  affidavit  man  in  Colorado. 

I  have  held  my  office  through  a  part  of  the 
administration  of  Grant,  and  all  of  the  Hayes 
administration,  so  far,  and  all  through  the  count- 
less political  changes  of  the  territorial  administra- 
tion. I  state  this  with  a  pardonable  pride.  It 
shows  it  was  not  the  result  of  political  influence 
or  party,  but  was  the  natural  outgrowth  of  offi- 
cial rectitude  and  just  dealing  toward  all.  When 
96 


CONGRATULATORY. 


97 


a  man  comes  before  me  to  make  affidavit  or  to 
acknowledge  a  deed,  I  recognize  no  party,  no 
friend.  They  are  all  served  alike  and  charged 
alike. 

I  was  appointed  to  this  high  official  position 
under  the  administration  of  Governor  Thayer. 
At  that  time  C.  O.  D.  French  was  secretary.  I 
had  to  lubricate  the  wheels  of  government  before 
I  could  catch  on,  as  it  were.  C.  O.  D.  French 
wanted  $5.  I  sent  it  to  him.  I  wrote  him  that 
when  the  people  seemed  determined  to  foist  upon 
me  the  high  official  honor  of  Notary  Public,  the 
paltry  sum  of  $5  should  not  stand  in  the  way.  I 
have  held  the  position  ever  since.  Political  ene- 
mies have  endeavored  to  tear  to  pieces  my  record, 
both  officially  and  socially,  but  through  evil  and 
good  report,  I  have  still  held  it. 

The  nation  to-day  looks  to  her  notaries  public 
for  her  crowning  glory  and  successful  future.  In 
their  hands  rest  the  might  and  the  grandeur  and 
the  glory  which,  like  a  halo,  in  the  years  to  come, 
will  encircle  the  brow  of  Columbia.  I  feel  the 
responsibility  that  rests  upon  me,  and  I  tremble 
with  the  mighty  weight  of  weal  or  woe  for  a  great 
nation  which  hangs  upon  my  every  official  act. 
I  presume  Mr.  Eaymond  feels  the  same  w^ay.  He 
ought,  certainly,  for  the  eyes  of  a  great  republic 
watch  us  with  feverish  anxiety.  It  is  an  awful 
7 


98 


BALED  HAT. 


position  to  be  placed  in.  Let  those  who  tread  the 
lower  walks  of  life  envy  not  the  brain-and-nerve- 
destroying  position  of  the  notary  public,  whose 
every  movement  is  portentous,  and  great  with  its 
burden  of  good  or  ill  for  nations  unborn.  That  is 
what  is  making  an  old  man  of  me  before  my  time, 
and  sprinkling  my  strawberry  blonde  hair  with 
gray. 


THE  AGONY  IS  OYEE. 


IT  has  occurred  to  us  that  the  destruction  of 
timber  near  the  Continental  Divide,  in  Colo- 
rado, which  is  also  called,  "  The  Backbone  of  the 
Continent,"  will  naturally  be  a  severe  blow  to  the 
lumber  region  of  Colorado. 

We  began  studying  on  this  joke  last  summer, 
and  have  wrestled  prayerfully  with  it  ever  since, 
with  the  above  result.  Do  not  think,  0  gay,  light- 
hearted  reader,  that  these  jokes  are  spontaneous, 
and  that  mirth  is  pumped  out  of  the  recesses  of 
the  editor's  brain  as  a  grocer  pumps  coal  oil  out 
of  a  tin  tank.  They  come  with  fasting  and  sad- 
ness, and  vexation  of  spirit,  and  groanings  that 
cannot  be  uxtered,  and  weeping  and  gnashing  of 
teeth.  Now  that  we  are  over  this  joke  safely,  no 
doubt  that  we  shall  begin  to  flesh  up  again. 


OSTRICH  CAVALRY. 


rpUE  question  of  mounting  the  United  States 
cavalr y  uP°n  ostriches,  as  a  matter  of  econo- 
my, is  being  agitated  on  the  strength  of  their  easy 
propagation  in  Arizona  and  New  Mexico.  There 
being  now  one  hundred  and  seventeen  of  these 
birds  in  that  region,  the  result  of  the  increase  from 
nme  of  them  imported  several  years  ago.  How- 
ever successful  ostrich  farming  may  be  in  and  of 
itself,  we  cannot  speak  too  highly  of  the  feasibility 
of  using  the  bird  for  cavalry  purposes.    It  is  an 
established  fact  that  the  ostrich  is  very  swift  and 
will  live  for  clays  without  food,  and  be  very  sen 
viceable  all  the  time. 

A  detachment  of  ostrich  cavalry  could  light  out 
across  the  enemy's  country  like  the  wind,  and 
easily  distance  an  equal  force  mounted  upon 
horses,  and  after  several  days'  march,  instead  of 
a  weary,  worn,  and  jaded-out  lot  of  horses,  there 
would  be  a  flock  of  ostriches,  hungry  but  in  good 
spirits,  and  the  quartermasters  could  issue  some 
empty  bottles,  and  some  sardine  boxes,  and  some 
government  socks,  and  an  old  blue  overcoat  or 
two,  and  the  irons  from  an  old  ambulance,  to  each 
bird;  and  at  evening,  while  the  white  tents  were 


100 


BALED  HAY 


glimmering  in  the  twilight,  the  birds  would  lie  in 
a  little  knot  chewing  their  cud  constantly,  and 
snoring  in  a  subdued  way  that  would  shake  the 
earth  for  miles  around. 

One  great  difficulty  would  be  to  keep  a  sufficient 
guard  around  the  arms  and  ammunition  to  prevent 
the  cavalry  from  eating  them  up.  Think  of  a 
half  dozen  ostriches  breaking  into  an  inclosure 
while  the  guard  was  asleep,  or  off  duty,  and  de- 
vouring fifteen  or  twenty  rounds  of  ammunition 
in  one  night,  or  stealing  into  the  place  where  the 
artillery  was  encamped,  and  filling  themselves  up 
with  shells  and  round  shot,  and  Greek  fire  and 
gatling  guns. 


ELECTRIC  BELT. 


A CHEYENNE  man  who  was  once  mildly 
struck  by  lightning,  calls  it  an  "  electric 

belt." 


THE  ACTUAL  "WAIL. 


A  s  usual,  the  regular  fall  wail  of  the  eastern 
■4-*-  press  on.  the  Indian  question,  charging  that 
the  Indians  never  committed  any  depredations 
unless  grossly  abused,  has  arrived.    We  are  un- 
packing it  this  morning  and  marking  the  price 
on  it.    Some  of  it  is  on  manifold,  and  the  remain- 
der on  ordinary  telegraph  paper.    It  will  be 
closed  out  very  cheap.    Parties  wishing  to  supply 
boarding  schools  with  essays  and  compositions, 
cannot  do  better  than  to  apply  at  once.    We  are 
selling  Boston  lots,  with  large  brass-mounted 
words,  at  two  and  three  cents  per  pound.  Every 
package  draws  a  prize  of  a  two-pound  can  of 
baked  beans.    If  large  orders  are  received  from 
any  one  person,  we  will  set  up  the  wail  and  start 
it  to  running,  free  of  cost.    It  may  be  attached 
to  any  newspaper  in  a  few  minutes,  and  the  merest 
child  can  readily  understand  it.    It  is  very  simple. 
But  it  is  not  as  simple  as  the  tallowy  poultice  on 
the  average  eastern  paper,  who  grinds  them  out 
at  $4  per  week,  and  found. 

We  also  have  some  old  wails,  two  or  three  years 
old  — and  older— that  have  never  been  used 
which  we  will  sell  very  low.    Old  Sioux  wails,' 
101 


102 


BALED  HAY. 


Modoc  wails,  etc.,  etc.  They  do  not  seem  to  meet 
with  a  ready  sale  in  the  west,  and  we  rather  sus- 
pect it's  because  we  are  too  near  the  scene  of  the 
Indian  troubles.  Parties  who  have  been  shot  at, 
scalped,  or  had  their  wives  and  children  massa- 
cred by  the  Indians,  do  not  buy  eastern  wails. 

Eastern  wails  are  meant  for  the  eastern  market, 
and  if  we  can  get  this  old  stock  off  our  hands,  we 
will  hereafter  treat  the  Indian  question  in  our 
plain,  matter  of  fact  way. 

The  namby-pamby  style  of  Indian  editorial  and 
molasses-candy-gush  that  New  Englanders  are 
now  taking  in,  makes  us  tired.  Life  is  too  short, 
It  is  but  a  span.  Only  as  a  tale  that  has  been 
told.  Just  like  the  coming  of  a  guest,  who  gets 
his  meal  ticket  punched,  grabs  a  tooth  pick,  and 
skins  out. 

Then  why  do  we  fool  away  the  golden  years 
that  the  Creator  has  given  us  for  mental  improve- 
ment and  spiritual  elevation,  in  trying  to  fill  up 
the  enlightened  masses  with  an  inferior  article 
of  taffy? 

Every  man  who  knows  enough  to  feed  himself 
out  of  a  maple  trough,  knows,  or  ought  to  know, 
that  the  Indian  is  treacherous,  dishonest,  diaboli- 
cal and  devilish  in  the  extreme,  and  that  he  is 
only  waiting  the  opportunity  to  spread  out  a  little 
juvenile  hell  over  the  fair  face  of  nature  if  you 


THE  ANNUAL  WAIL. 


103 


give  him  one-sixteenth  of  a  chance.  He  will  wear 
pants  and  comb  his  hair,  and  pray  and  be  a  class 
leader  at  the  agency  for  fifty-nine  years,  if  he 
knows  that  in  the  summer  of  the  sixtieth  year  he 
can  murder  a  few  Colorado  settlers  and  beat  out 
the  brains  of  the  industrious  farmers. 

Industry  is  the  foe  of  the  red  man.  He  is  a 
warrior.  He  has  royal  blood  in  his  veins,  and 
the  vermin  of  the  Montezumas  dance  the  German 
over  his  filthy  carcass.  That's  the  kind  of  a  hair 
pin  he  is.  He  never  works.  Nobody  but  China- 
men and  plebians  ever  work. 


HE  WAS  NOT  A  BURGLAR. 


rpHE  young  man  who  was  seen  climbing  in  a 
-L  window  on  Center  street  yesterday,  was  not 
a  burglar  as  some  might  suppose,  but  on  the  con- 
trary he  was  a  man  whose  wife  had  left  the  keys 
to  the  house  lying  on  the  mantel,  and  locked  them 
in  by  means  of  a  spring  lock  on  the  front  door. 
He  did  not  climb  in  the  window  because  he  pre- 
ferred that  way,  but  because  the  door  unlocked 
better  from  the  inside. 


BEST  OK,  BLESSED  MEMOEY. 


N E  of  the  attractions  of  life  at  the  Cheyenne 


Indian  agency,  is  the  reserved  seat  ticket  to 
the  regular  slaughter-house  matinee.  The  agency 
butchers  kill  at  the  rate  of  ten  bullocks  per  hour 
while  at  work,  and  so  great  was  the  rush  to  the 
slaughter-pens  for  the  internal  economy  of  the 
slaughtered  animals,  that  Major  Love  found  it 
necessary  to  erect  a  box-office  and  gate,  where 
none  but  those  holding  tickets  could  enter  and 
provide  themselves  with  these  delicacies. 

This  is  not  a  sensation,  it  is  the  plain  truth,  and 
we  desire  to  call  the  attention  of  those  who  love 
and  admire  the  Indian  at  a  distance  of  2,000  miles, 
and  to  the  aesthetic  love  for  the  beautiful  which 
prompts  the  crooked-fangecl  and  dusky  bride  of 
old  Fly-up-the-Creek  to  rob  the  soap-grease  man 
and  the  glue  factory,  that  she  may  make  a  Chey- 
enne holiday.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  common 
decency  will  not  permit  us  to  enter  into  a  discus- 
sion of  this  matter.  Firstly,  it  would  not  be  lit 
for  the  high  order  of  readers  who  are  now  paying 
their  money  for  The  Boomerang  ;  and  secondly, 
the  Indian  maiden  at  the  present  moment  stands 
on  a  lofty  crag  of  the  Kocky  mountains,  beauti- 
104 


LET  THE  GRACEFUL  INDIAN  QUEEN  LIVE  ON. 


REST  ON,  BLESSED  MEMORY.  107 

f ul  in  her  wild  simplicity,  wearing  the  fringed  gar- 
ments of  her  tribe.  To  the  sentimentalist  she 
appears  outlined  against  the  glorious  sky  of  the 
new  west,  wearing  a  coronet  of  eagle's  feathers, 
and  a  health-corset  trimmed  with  fantastic  bead- 
work  and  wonderful  and  impossible  designs  in 
savage  art. 

Shall  we  then  rush  in  and  with  ruthless  hand 
shatter  this  beautiful  picture  ?  Shall  we  portray 
her  as  she  appears  on  her  return  from  the  great 
slaughter-house  benefit  and  moral  aggregation  of 
digestive  mementoes?  Shall  we  draw  a  picture 
of  her  clothed  in  a  horse-blanket,  with  a  neck- 
lace of  the  false  teeth  of  the  pale  face,  and  her 
coarse  unkempt  hair  hanging  over  her  smoky 
features  and  clinging  to  her  warty,  bony  neck? 
No,  no.  Far  be  it  from  us  to  destroy  the  lovely 
vision  of  copper-colored  grace  and  smoke-tanned 
beauty,  which  the  freckled  student  of  the  effete 
east  has  erected  in  the  rose-hued  chambers  of 
fancy.  Let  her  dwell  there  as  the  plump-limbed 
princess  of  a  brave  people.  Let  her  adorn  the 
hat-rack  of  his  imagination  —  proud,  beautiful, 
grand,  gloomy  and  peculiar  —  while  as  a  matter 
of  fact  she  is  at  that  moment  leaving  the  vestibule 
of  the  slaughter-house,  conveying  in  the  soiled  lap- 
robe — which  is  her  sole  adornment — the  mangled 
lungs  of  a  Texas  steer. 


108 


BALED  HAY. 


Jso  man  shall  ever  say  that  we  have  busted  the 
beautiful  Cigar  Sign  Vision  that  he  has  erected  in 
his  memory.  Let  the  graceful  Indian  queen  that 
has  lived  on  in  his  heart  ever  since  he  studied  his- 
tory and  saw  the  graphic  picture  of  the  landing 
of  Columbus,  in  which  Columbus  is  just  unsheath- 
ing his  bread  knife,  and  the  stage  Indians  are 
fleeing  to  the  tall  brush ;  let  her,  we  say.  still  live 
on.  The  ruthless  hand  that  writes  nothing  but 
everlasting  truth,  and  the  stub  pencil  that  yanks 
the  cloak  of  the  false  and  artificial  from  cold  and 
perhaps  unpalatable  fact,  will  spare  this  little 
imaginary  Indian  maiden  with  a  back-comb  and 
gold  garters.  Let  her  withstand  the  onward 
inarch  of  centuries  while  the  true  Indian  maiden 
eats  the  fricasseed  locust  of  the  plains  and  wears 
the  cavalry  pants  of  progress.  AYe  may  be  rough 
and  thoughtless  many  times,  but  we  cannot  come 
forward  and  ruthlessly  shatter  the  red  goddess 
at  whose  shrine  the  far-away  student  of  Black- 
hawk  and  other  fourth-reader  warriors,  worship. 

As  we  said,  we  decline  to  pull  the  cloak  from 
the  true  Indian  maiden  of  to-day  and  show  her  as 
she  is.  That  cloak  may  be  all  she  has  on,  and  no 
gentleman  will  be  rude  even  to  the  daughter  of 
Old  Bob-Tail-Flush,  the  Cheyenne  brave. 


A  JUDICIAL  WARBLER 


JACOB  BEESON  BLAlK,  who  has  been  re- 
cently renominated  as  associate  justice  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  Wyoming,  and  judge  of  the 
second  judicial  district,  with  his  headquarters  at 
this  place,  is  one  of  the  most  able  and  consistent 
officials  that  Wyoming  ever  had.  I  might  go 
further  and  say  that  he  stands  at  the  head  of  them 
all.  A  year  agb,  as  an  evidence  of  his  popularity, 
I  will  say  that  he  was  unanimously  nominated  to 
represent  the  Territory  in  Congress,  which  nomi- 
nation he  gracefully  declined.  He  has  put  his 
spare  capital  into  mines,  and  shown  that  he  is  a 
resident  of  Wyoming,  and  not  of  the  classic  halls 
of  Washington,  or  the  sea-beat  shores  of  "  Mary- 
land, my  Maryland." 

Two  years  ago  I  had  the  pleasure  of  making  a 
trip  to  the  mines  on  Douglas  creek,  or,  as  it  was 
then  called,  Last  Chance,  in  company  with  Judge 
Blair  and  Delegate  Downey,  owners  of  the  Key- 
stone gold  mine  in  that  district.  The  party  also 
included  Governor  Hoyt,  Assayer  Murphy,  Post- 
master Hayf  ord,  and  several  other  prominent  men. 
Judge  Brown  and  Sheriff  Boswell  were  also  in  the 
party  at  the  mine.  Judge  Blair  is,  by  natural 
109 


110 


BALED  HAY, 


choice,  a  Methodist,  and  renewed  our  spiritual 
strength  throughout  the  trip  in  a  way  that  was 
indeed  pleasant  and  profitable.  The  Judge  sings 
in  a  soft,  subdued  kind  of  a  way  that  makes  the 
walls  of  the  firmament  crack,  and  the  heavens  roll 
together  like  a  scroll.  When  he  sings- 
How  tedious  and  tasteless  the  hours 
When  Jesus  no  longer  I  see, 

the  coyotes  and  jack-rabbits  within  a  radius  of 
seventy-five  miles,  hunt  their  respective  holes,  and 
remain  there  till  the  danger  has  passed. 

Looking  at  the  Judge  as  he  sits  on  the  bench 
singeing;  the  road  agent  for  ten  years  in  solitary 
confinement,  one  would  not  think  he  could  warble 
so  when  he  gets  into  the  mountains.  But  he  can. 
He  is  a  regular  prima  donna,  so  to  speak. 

When  he  starts  to  sing,  the  sound  is  like  an 
^Eolian  harp,  sighing  through  the  pine  forests  and 
dying  away  upon  the  silent  air.  Gradually  it 
swells  into  the  wild  melody  of  the  hotel  gong. 


/ 


A  FIEE  AT  A  BALL. 


npvOWJST  at  Gunnison  last  week  a  large,  select 
J— 7  ball  was  given  in  a  hall,  one  end  of  which 
was  partitioned  off  for  sleeping  rooms.    A  young 
man  who  slept  in  one  of  these  rooms,  and  who 
felt  grieved  because  he  had  not  been  invited,  and 
had  to  roll  around  and  suffer  while  the  glad 
throng  tripped  the  light  bombastic  toe,  at  last 
discovered  a  knot-hole  in  the  partition  through 
which  he  could  watch  the  giddy  multitude.  While 
peeping  through  the  knot-hole,  he  discovered  that 
one  of  the  dancers,  who  had  an  aperture  in  the 
heel  of  his  shoe  and  another  in  his  sock  to  corre- 
spond, was  standing  by  the  wall  with  the  venti- 
lated foot  near  the  knot-hole.    It  was  but  the 
work  of  a  moment  to  hold  a  candle  against  this 
exposed  heel  until  the  thick  epidermis  had  been 
heated  red  hot.  -  Then  there  was  a  wail  that  rent 
the  battlements  above  and  drowned  the  blasts  of 
the  music.    There  was  a  wild  scared  cry  of  "fire,'' 
a  frightened  throng  rushing  hither  and  thither, 
and  then,  where  mirth  and  music  and  rum  had 
gladdened  the  eye  and  reddened  the  cheek  a  mo- 
ment ago,  all  was  still  save  the  low  convulsive 
titter  of  a  scantily  clad  man,  as  he  lay  on  the  floor 
of  his  donjon  tower  and  dug  his  nails  in  the  floor. 


Ill 


A  LITTLE  PUFF. 


SOME  time  ago  the  Cheyenne  Sun  noticed 
that  Judge  Crosby,  known  to  Colorado  and 
Wyoming  people  quite  well,  was  making  strenu- 
ous efforts,  with  some  show  of  success,  to  obtain 
the  appointment  of  Associate  Justice  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  Wyoming.  Since  that,  I  have 
noticed  with  great  sorrow  that  the  President,  in  his 
youthful  thoughtlessness  and  juvenile  independ- 
ence, has  appointed  another  man  for  the  position. 

I  speak  of  this  because  so  many  Colorado  and 
Wyoming  people  knew  Mr.  Crosby  and  had  an 
interest  in  him,  as  I  might  say.  Some  of  us  only 
knew  him  fifty  cents  worth,  while  others  knew 
him  for  various  amounts  up  to  $5  and  $10.  He 
was  an  earnest,  unflagging  and  industrious  bor- 
rower. When  times  were  dull  he  used  to  borrow 
of  me.  Then  I  would  throw  up  my  hands  and  let 
him  go  through  me.  It  was  not  a  hazardous  act 
at  all  on  my  part. 

The  Judge  knew  everybody,  and  everybody 
knew  him,  and  seemed  nervous  when  they  saw  him, 
for  fear  that  the  regular  assessment  was  about  to  be 
made.  Every  few  days  he  wanted  "to  buy  a  pair** 
of  socks,"  but  he  never  bought  them.  Forty  or  fifty 
112 


A  LITTLE  PUFF. 


113 


df  us  got  together  and  compared  notes  the  other 
day.  We  ascertained  that  not  less  than  $100  had 
been  contributed  to  the  Crosby  Sock  Fund  during 
his  stay  here,  and  yet  the  old  man  wore  the  same 
socks  to  Washington  that  he  had  worn  in  the  San 
Juan  country.  A  like  amount  was  also  contribu- 
ted to  the  Wash  Bill  Fund,  and  still  he  never  had 
any  washing  done.  We  often  wondered  why  so 
much  money  was  squandered  on  laundry  expenses, 
and  yet,  that  he  should  have  the  general  perspec- 
tive and  spicy  fragrance  of  a  Mormon  emigrant 
train.  He  used  to  come  into  my  office  and  be 
sociable  with  me  because  he  was  a  journalist.  It 
surprised  me  at  first  to  meet  a  journalist  who 
never  changed  his  shirt.  I  thought  that  journal- 
ists, as  a  rule,  wore  diamond  studs  and  had  to  be 
looked  at  through  smoked  glass. 

He  liked  me.  He  told  me  so  one  day  when  we 
were  alone,  and  after  I  had  promised  to  tell  no 
one.  Then  he  asked  me  for  a  quarter.  I  told 
him  I  had  nothing  less  than  a  fifty-cent  piece. 
He  said  he  would  go  and  get  it  changed.  I  said 
it  would  be  a  shame  for  an  old  man,  and  lame  at 
that,  to  go  out  and  get  it  changed;  so  I  said  I 
would  go.  I  went  out  and  played  thirteen  of  my 
eternal  revolving  games  of  billiards,  and  about 
dusk  went  back  to  the  office  whistling  a  merry 
roundelay,  knowing  that  he  had  starved  out  and 
8 


114  BALED  HAY. 

gone  away.    I  found  him  at  my  desk,  where  he 
had  written  to  every  Senator  and  Representative 
in  Congress,  and  every  man  who  had  ever  been  a 
Senator  or  Representative  in  Congress ;  likewise 
every  man,  woman  and  child  who  ever  expected 
to  be  a  Senator  or  a  Representative  in  Congress; 
also,  to  every  superintendent  and  passenger  agent 
of  every  known  line  of  railway,  for  a  pass  to  every 
known  point  of  the  civilized  world,  and  in  this 
correspondence  he  had  used  my  letter  heads,  and 
envelopes  and  stamps,  and  he  wasn't  done  either. 
He  was  just  getting  animated  and  warming  up  to 
his  work,  and  perspiring  so  that  I  had  to  open 
the  hall  door  and  burn  some  old  gum  overshoes 
and  other  disinfectants  before  I  could  breathe.  ^ 

A  large  society  is  being  formed  here  and  in 
Cheyenne,  called  the  "Crosby  Sufferer  Aid  Associ- 
ation."' It  is  for  the  purpose  of  furnishing  speedy 
relief  to  the  sufferers  from  the  Crosby  outbreak. 
We  desire  the  cooperation  and  assistance  of  Colo- 
rado philanthropists,  and  will,  so  far  as  possible, 
furnish  relief  to  Colorado  sufferers  from  the  great 
scourge. 

Latek.— Henry  Eothschild  Crosby,  Esq..  passed 
through  here  a  few  evenings  since,  on  his  way  to 
Evanston,  Wyoming,  where  he  takes  charge  of 
his  office  as  receiver  of  public  moneys  for  the 
western  land  office. 


A  LITTLE  PUFF. 


115 


Henry  seems  to  feel  as  though  I  had  not  stood 
by  him  through  his  political  struggle  at  Washing- 
ton. At  least  I  learn  from  other  parties  that  he 
does  not  seem  to  hunger  and  thirst  after  my 
genial  society,  and  thinks  that  what  little  influ- 
ence I  may  have  had,  has  not  been  used  in  his 
interest. 

That  is  where  Henry  hit  the  nail  on  the  head, 
with  that  far-sighted  statesmanship  and  clear, 
unerring  logic  for  which  he  is  so  remarkable. 

I  do  not  blame  those  who  were  instrumental  in 
securing  his  appointment,  remember.    Not  at  all. 
No  doubt  I  would  have  done  the  same  thing  if  I 
had  been  in  Washington  all  winter,  and  Henry 
had  hovered  around  me  for  breakfast,  and  for 
lunch,  and  for  dinner,  and  for  supper,  and  for 
between  meals,  and  for  picnics,  and  had  borrowed 
my  money,  and  my  overcoat,  and  my  meal  ticket, 
and  my  bath  ticket,  and  my  pool  checks,  and  my 
socks,  and  my  robs  de  nuit,  and  my  tooth  brush, 
and  my  gas  and  writing  materials  and  stationery ; 
but  it  should  be  born  in  mind  that  I  am  a  resident 
of  Wyoming.    I  have  property  here  and  it  be- 
hooves me  to  do  and  say  what  I  can  for  the 
interests  of  our  people.    I  may  have  to  borrow 
some  things  myself  some  day  and  I  don't  want  to 
find,  then,  that  they  have  all  been  borrowed. 


116 


BALED  HAY. 


Let  Hank  stand  back  a  little  while  and  give  the 
other  boys  a  chance. 

[Note.— In  order  to  give  the  gentle  reader  an  idea  of  Mr. 
Crosby's  personal  appearance,  I  have  consented  to  draw  a  pic- 
ture of  him  myself.  It  isn't  very  pretty,  but  it  is  horribly 
accurate.  It  is  so  life-like,  that  it  seems  as  though  I  could 
almost  detect  his  maroon-colored  breath.— -B.  N.] 


GENIUS  ATsTD  WHISKY. 


T  SEE  in  a  recent  issue  of  the  Sun  a  short  article 
J-  clipped  from  a  Sidney  paper,  relative  to  Wil- 
liam Henry  Harrison,  which  brings  to  my  mind 
fresh  recollections  of  the  long  ago.  I  knew  Wil- 
liam too.  I  knew  him  for  a  small  amount  which 
I  wish  I  had  now,  to  give  to  suffering  Ireland. 
He  came  upon  me  in  the  prime  of  summer  time 
and  said  he  was  a  newspaper  man.  That  always 
gets  me.  When  a  man  says  to  me  that  he  is  a 
newspaper  man,  and  proves  it  by  showing  the 
usual  discouraging  state  of  resources  and  liabilities, 
I  always  come  forward  with  the  collateral. 

William  wanted  to  go  into  the  mountains  and 
recover  his  exhausted  nerve-force,  and  build  up 
his  brain-power  with  our  dry,  bracing  air.  He 
knew  Mr.  Foley,  who  was  then  working  a  claim 
in  Last  Chance,  so  he  went  out  there  to  tone  up 
his  exhausted  energies.  He  went  out  there,  and 
after  a  few  weeks  a  note  came  in  from  the  man 
with  the  historical  cognomen,  asking  me  to  send 
him  a  gallon  of  best  Old  Crow.  I  went  to  my 
guide  book  and  encyclopoedia  and  ascertained  that 
this  was  a  kind  of  drink.  I  then  purchased  the 
amount  and  sent  it  on. 

117 


H8  BALED  HAT. 

Mr.  Foley  said  that  William  stayed  by  the  jug 
till  it  was  dry.  and  then  he  came  into  town.  I  met 
him  on  the  street  and  asked  him  how  his  inteUeet 
seemed  after  his  picnic  in  the  mountains.  He  said 
she  was  all  right  now.  and  he  felt  just  as  though 
he  could  do  "the  entire  staff  work  on  the  New 
York  Herald  for  two  weeks  and  not  sweat  a  hair. 
But  he  didn't  pay  for  the  Old  Crow.    It  slipped 
his  mind.    When  time  hung  heavy  on  my  hands. 
I  used  to  write  William  a  note  and  cheerfully  dun 
him  for  the  amount.    I  would  also  ask  him  how 
his  intellect  seemed  by  this  time,  and  also  make 
other  little  jocular  remarks.    But  he  has  never 
forwarded  the  amount.    If  the  bill  had  been  for 
pantaloons,  or  grub,  or  other  luxuries.  I  might 
have  excused  him.  but  when  I  loan  a  man  money 
for  a  staple  like  whisky.  I  dont  think  it's  asking 
too  much  to  hope  that  in  the  flight  of  time  it 
would  be  paid  back.    However.  I  can't  help  it 
now.    It's  about  time  that  another  bogus  jour- 
nalist should  put  in  an  appearance.    I  have  a  few 
dollars  ahead,  and  I  am  yearning  to  lay  out  the 
sum  on  struggling  genius. 


THE  TWO-HEADED  GIKL. 


HE  cultivated  two-headed  girl  has  visited  the 


west.  It  is  very  rare  that  a  town  the  size 
of  Laramie  experiences  the  rare  treat  of  witness- 
ing anything  so  enjoyable.  In  addition  to  the 
•  mental  feast  which  such  a  thing  affords,  one  goes 
away  feeling  better— feeling  that  life  has  more 
in  it  to  live  for,  and  is  not  after  all  such  a  vale  of 
tears  as  he  had  at  times  believed  it. 

Through  the  trials  and  disappointments  of  this 
earthly  pilgrimage,  the  soul  is  at  times  cast  down 
and  discouraged.  Man  struggles  against  ill-for- 
tune and  unlooked-for  woes,  year  after  year,  until 
he  becomes  misanthropical  and  soured,  but  when 
a  two-headed  girl  comes  along  and  he  sees  her  it 
cheers  him  up.  She  speaks  to  his  better  nature 
in  two  different  languages  at  one  and  the  same 
time,  and  at  one  price. 

When  I  went  to  the  show  I  felt  gloomy  and 
apprehensive.  The  eighteenth  ballot  had  been 
taken  and  the  bulletins  seemed  to  have  a  tiresome 
sameness.  The  future  of  the  republic  was  not 
encouraging.  I  felt  as  though,  if  I  could  get  first 
cost  for  the  blasted  thing,  I  would  sell  it. 
I  had  also  been  breaking  in  a  pair  of  new  boots 


119 


120 


BALED  HAY. 


that  day,  and  spectators  had  been  betting  wildly 
on  the  boots,  while  I  had  no  backers  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  had  nearly  decided 
to  withdraw  on  the  last  ballot.  I  went  to  the 
entertainment  feeling  as  though  I  should  criticise 
it  severely. 

The  two-headed  girl  is  not  beautiful.  Neither 
one  of  her,  in  fact,  is  handsome.  There  is  quite 
a  similarity  between  the  two,  probably  because 
they  have  "been  in  each  other's  society  a  great 
deal  and  have  adopted  the  same  ways. 

She  is  an  Ethiopian  by  descent  and  natural 
choice,  being  about  the  same  complexion  as  Frank 
Miller's  oil  blacking,  price  ten  cents. 

She  was  at  one  time  a  poor  slave,  but  by  her 
winning  ways  and  genuine  integrity  and  genius, 
she  has  won  her  way  to  the  hearts  of  the 
American  people.  She  has  thoroughly  demon- 
strated the  fact  that  two  heads  are  better  than  one. 

A  good  sized  audience  welcomed  this  popular 
favorite.  "When  she  came  forward  to  the  foot- 
lights and  made  her  two-ply  bow  she  was  greeted 
by  round  after  round  of  applause  from  the  elite  of 
the  city. 

I  felt  pleased  and  gratified.  The  fact  that  a 
recent  course  of  scientific  lectures  here  was 
attended  by  from  fifteen  to  thirty  people,  and  the 
present  brilliant  success  of  the  two-headed  girl 


THE  TWO-HEADED  GIRL. 


121 


proved  to  me,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  we  live  in  an 
age  of  thought  and  philosophical  progress. 

Science  may  be  all  right  in  its  place,  but  does  it 
make  the  world  better?  Does  it  make  a  permanent 
improvement  on  the  minds  and  thoughts  of  the 
listener  ?  Do  we  go  away  from  such  a  lecture 
feeling  that  we  have  made  a  grand  stride  toward 
a  glad  emancipation  from  the  mental  thraldom  of 
ignorance  and  superstition?  Do  people  want  to 
be  assailed,  year  after  year,  with'  a  nebular  the- 
ory, and  the  Professor  Huxley  theory  of  natural 
selections  and  things  of  that  nature? 

No !  1,000  times  no ! 

They  need  to  be  led  on  quietly  by  an  appeal  to 
their  better  natures.  They  need  to  witness  a  first- 
class  bureau  of  monstrosities,  such  as  men  with 
heads  as  big  as  a  band  w^agon,  women  with  two 
heads,  Cardiff  giants,  men  with  limbs  bristling  out 
all  over  them  like  the  velvety  bloom  on  a  prickly 
pear. 

When  I  get  a  little  leisure,  and  can  attend  to  it, 
f  I  am  going  to  organize  a  grand  constellation  of 
living  wonders  of  this  kind,  and  make  thirteen  or 
fourteen  hundred  farewell  tours  with  it,  not  so 
much  to  make  money,  but  to  meet  a  .long-felt 
want  of  the  American  people  for  something 
which  will  give  a  higher  mental  tone  to  the  tastes 
of  those  who  never  lag  in  their  tireless  march 
toward  perfection. 


■  V-'  * 

THE  CULTIVATION  OF  GTTM. 


A  N  idea  has  occurred  to  us,  that,  situated  as 
we  are  at  a  considerable  elevation,  and  being 
comparatively  out  of  the  line  of  tropical  growth, 
we  should  try  to  propagate  plants  that  will  with- 
stand the  severe  winter  and  the  sudden  and  some- 
times fatal  surprise  of  spring.  Plants  in  this 
locality  worry  along  very  well  through  the  winter 
in  a  kind  of  semi-unconscious  state,  but  when 
spring  drops  down  on  them  about  the  Fourth  of 
July  they  are  not  prepared  for  it,  and  they  yield 
to  the  severe  nervous  shock  and  pass  with  a 
gentle  gliding  motion  up  the  flume. 

This  has  suggested  to  our  mind  the  practica- 
bility of  cultivating  the  chewing-gum  plant.  We 
advance  this  thought  with  some  timidity,  know- 
ing that  our  enemies  will  use  all  these  novel  and 
untried  ideas  against  us  in  a  presidential  cam- 
paign ;  but  the  good  of  the  country  is  what  we 
are  after  and  we  do  not  want  to  be  misunder- 
stood. 

Chewing-gum  is  rapidly  advancing  in  price, 
and  the  demand  is  far  beyond  the  supply.  The 
call  for  gum  is  co-extensive  with  the  onward 
move  of  education.  They  may  be  said  to  go  hand 
132 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  GUM. 


123 


in  hand.  "Wherever  institutions  of  learning  are 
found,  there  you  will  see  the  tall,  graceful  form 
of  the  chewing-gum  tree  rising  toward  heaven 
with  its  branches  extending  toward  all  humanity. 

Here,  in  Wyoming,  we  could  easily  propagate 
this  plant.  It  is  hardy  and  don't  seem  to  care 
whether  winter  lingers  in  the  lap  of  spring  or  not. 
We  have  the  figures,  also,  to  substantiate  this 
article.  We  will  figure  on  the  basis  of  twenty  boxes 
of  gum  to  the  plant — and  this  is  a  very  low  esti- 
mate, indeed— then  the  plants  may  easily  be  three 
feet  apart.  This  would  be  3,097,600  plants  to  the 
acre,  or  61,952,000  boxes,  containing  100  chews 
m  each  box,  or  6,195,200,000  chews  to  the  acre. 
We  have  a  million  acres  that  could  be  used  in  this 
way,  which  would  yield  in  a  good  year  6,195,200,- 
000,000,000  chews  at  one  cent  each. 

The  reader  will  see  at  a  glance  that  this  is  no 
wild  romantic  notion  on  our  part,  but  a  terrible 
reality.  Wyoming  could  easily  supply  the  present 
demand  and  wag  the  jaws  of  nations  yet  unborn. 
It  makes  us  tired  to  think  of  it. 

Of  course,  anything  like  this  will  meet  with 
strong  opposition  on  the  part  of  those  who  have 
no  faith  in  enterprises,  but  let  a  joint  stock  com- 
pany be  formed  with  sufficient  capital  to  purchase 
the  tools  and  gum  seed,  and  we  will  be  responsible 
for  the  result.    Very  likely  the  ordinary  spruce 


124 


BALED  HAY. 


gum  (made  of  lard  and  resin)  would  be  best  as  an 
experiment,  after  which  the  prize-package  gum 
plant  could  be  tried. 

These  experiments  could  be  followed  up  with 
a  trial  of  the  gum  drop,  gum  overshoe,  gum  arabic 
and  other  varieties  of  gum.  Doctor  Hayford 
would  be  a  good  man  to  take  hold  of  this.  Col. 
Donnellan  says,  however,  that  he  don't  think 
it  is  practical.  Xo  use  of  enlarging  on  this  sub- 
ject it  will  never  be  tried.    Probably  the  town 

is  full  of  people  who  are  willing  to  chew  the  gum, 
but  wouldn't  raise  a  hand  toward  starting  a  gum 
orchard.  We  are  sick  and  tired  of  pointing  out 
different  avenues  to  wealth  only  to  be  laughed  at 
and  ridiculed. 


WE  HA  YE  EEASOI^ED  IT  OUT. 


A  HOME  magazine  comes  to  us  this  week, 
in  which  we  find  the  following,  connected 
with  a  society  article.  After  alluding  to  the 
young  men  of  the  nineteenth  century,  and  their 
peculiarities,  it  continues  :  "  In  fact,  many  of  the 
more  fashionable  strains  are  all  black,  except  the 
distinctive  white  feet  and  snout,  so  noticeable  at 
this  epoch  in  our  history." 

This,  it  would  seem,  will  make  a  radical  change 
in  the  prevailing  young  man.  With  white  feet 
and  white  snout,  the  masher  must  also  be  black 
aside  from  those  features.  This  will  add  the  charm 
of  extreme  novelty  to  our  social  gatherings,  and 
furnish  sufficient  excuse  for  a  man  like  us,  with 
blonde  rind  and  strawberry  blonde  feet,  staying 
at  home,  with  the  ban  of  society  and  a  loose  smok- 
ing jacket  on  him. 

Farther  on,  this  peculiar  essay  says:  "He  is 
noted  for  his  wonderfully  fine  blood,  the  bone  is 
fine,  the  hair  thin,  the  carcass  long  but  broad, 
straight  and  deep-sided,  with  smooth  skin,  sus- 
ceptible to  no  mange  or  other  skin  diseases." 

We  almost  busted  our  capacity  trying  to  figure 
out  this  startler  in  the  fashion  line,  and  wore  our- 
125 


126 


BALED  HAY. 


self  down  to  a  mere  geometrical  line  in  our 
endeavor  to  fathom  this  thing  when,  yesterday,  in 
reading  an  article  in  the  same  paper  entitled,  "  The 
Berkshire  Hog,"  we  discovered  that  the  sentences 
above  referred  to  had  evidently  been  omitted  by 
the  foreman,  and  put  in  the  society  article.  It  is 
unnecessary  to  state  that  a  blessed  calm  has  set- 
tled down  in  the  heart  of  this  end  of  The  Boome- 
rang. Time,  at  last,  makes  all  things  size  up  in 
proper  shape.  Blessed  be  the  time  which  matures 
the  human  mind  and  the  promissory  note. 


CAEYBTG  SCHOOLS. 


THEY  are  agitating  the  matter  of  instituting 
carving  schools  in  the  east,  so  that  the  rising 
generation  will  be  able  to  pass  down  through  the 
corridors  of  time  without  its  lap  full  of  dressing 
and  its  bosom  laden  with  gravy  and  remorse. 
The  students  at  this  school  will  wear  barbed-wire 
masks  while  practicing.  These  masks  will  be 
similar  to  those  worn  by  German  students,  who 
slice  each  other  up  while  obtaining  an  education. 


DIGNITY. 


COLONEL  INGEESOLL  said,  at  Omaha  the 
other  day,  that  he  hated  a  dignified  man  and 
that  he  never  knew  one  who  had  a  particle  of 
sense;  that  such  men  never  learned,  and  were 
constantly  forgetting  something. 

J osh  Billings  says  that  gravity  is  no  more  the 
sign  of  mental  strength  than  a  paper  collar  is  the 
evidence  of  a  shirt. 

This  leads  us  to  say  that  the  man  who  ranks  as 
a  dignified  snoozer,  and  banks  on  winning  wealth 
and  a  deathless  name  through  this  one  source  of 
strength,  is  in  the  most  unenviable  position  of  °any 
one  we  know.  Dignity  does  not  draw.  It 
answers  in  place  of  intellectual  tone  for  twenty 
minutes,  but  after  awhile  it  fails  to  get  there. 
Dignity  works  all  right  in  a  wooden  Indian  or  a 
drum  major,  but  the  man  who  desires  to  draw  a 
salary  through  life  and  to  be  sure  of  a  visible 
means  of  support,  will  do  well  to  make  some  other 
provision  than  a  haughty  look  and  the  air  of 
patronage.  Colonel  Ingersoll  may  be  wrong  in 
the  matter  of  future  punishment,  but  his  head  is 
pretty  level  on  the  dignity  question.  Dignity 
works  all  right  with  a  man  who  is  worth  a  million 
127 


128 


BALED  HAY. 


dollars  and  has  some  doubts  about  his  suspenders ; 
but  the  man  who  is  to  get  a  large  sum  of  money 
before  he  dies,  and  get  married  and  accomplish 
some  good,  must  place  himself  before  his  fellow 
men  in  the  attitude  of  one  who  has  ideas  that  are 
not  too  lonely  and  isolated. 

Let  us  therefore  aim  higher  than  simply  to 
appear  cold  and  austere.  Let  us  study  to  aid  in 
the  advancement  of  humanity  and  the  increase  of 
baled  information.  Let  us  struggle  to  advance 
and  improve  the  world,  even  though  in  doing  so 
we  may  get  into  ungraceful  positions  and  at  times 
look  otherwise  than  pretty.  Thus  shall  we  get 
over  the  ground,  and  though  we  may  do  it  in  the 
eccentric  style  of  the  camel,  we  will  get  there,  as 
we  said  before,  and  we  will  have  camped  and 
eaten  our  supper  while  the  graceful  and  dignified 
pedestrian  lingers  along  the  trail. 

Works,  not  good  clothes  and  dignity,  are  the 
grand  hailing  sign,  and  he  who  halts  and  refuses 
to  jump 4  over  an  obstacle  because  he  may  not  do 
it  so  as  to  appear  as  graceful  as  a  gazelle,  will  not 
arrive  until  the  festivities  are  over, 


A  STOKT  OF  AG01STY. 

/^UR  attention  has  been  called  to  a  remark 
vy   made  by  the  New  York  Tribune,  which 
would  intimate  that  the  journal  referred  to  didn't 
hke  Acting-Postmaster  F,  Hatton,  and  character- 
izing the  editor  of  The  Boomerang  as  a  « journal- 
istic pal"  of  General  Hatton's.    We  certainly 
regret  that  circumstances  have  made  it  necessary 
for  us  to  rebuke  the  Tribune  and  speak,  harshly  to 
it.     Frank  Hatton  may  be  a  journalistic  pal  of 
ours.    Perhaps  so.    We  would  be  glad  to  class 
him  as  a  journalistic  pal  of  ours,  even  though  he 
may  not  have  married  rich.    We  think  just  as 
much  of  General  Hatton  as  though  he  had  mar- 
ried wealthy.  We  can't  all  marry  rich  and  travel 
over  the  country,  and  edit  our  papers  vicariously. 
That  is  something  that  can  only  happen  to  the 
blessed  few. 

It  would  be  nice  for  us  to  go  to  Europe  and 
have  am  pro  tern,  editor  at  home  working  for  $20 
per  week,  and  telegraphing  us  every  few  minutes 
to  know  whether  he  should  support  Cornell  or 
Folger.  The  pleasure  of  being  an  editor  is  greatly 
enhanced  by  such  privileges,  and  we  often  feel 
that  if  we  could  get  away  from  the  hot,  close  office 
9  129 


130  BALED  HAY. 

of  The  Boomerang,  and  roam  around  over  Scanda- 
hoovia  and  the  Bosphorus,  and  mould  the  policy 
of  The  Boomerang  by  telegraph,  and  wear  a  cork 
helmet  and  tight  pants,  we  would  be  far  happier. 
Still  it  may  be  that  Whitelaw  Keid  is  no  happier 
with  his  high  priced  wife  and  his  own  record  of 
crime,  than  we  are  in  our  simplicity  here  in  the 
wild  and  rugged  west,  as  we  write  little  epics  for 
our  one-horse  paper,  and  borrow  tobacco  of  the 
foreman. 

It  is  not  all  of  life  to  live,  nor  all  of  death  to 
die.  We  should  live  for  a  purpose,  Mr.  Keid,  not 
aimlessly  like  a  blind  Indian,  200  miles  from  the 
reservation  at  Christmas-tide. 

Now,  Mr.  Eeid,  if  you  will  just  tell  Mr.  Nichol- 
son, when  you  get  back  home,  that  in  referring  to 
us  as  a  journalistic  pal  of  Frank  Hatton  he  has 
exceeded  his  authority,  we  will  feel  grateful  to 
you— and  so  will  Mr.  Hatton.    If  you  don't  do  it, 
we  shall  be  called  upon  to  stop  the  Tribune,  and 
subscribe  for  Harper's  Weekly.    This  we  should 
dislike  to  do  very  much,  because  we  have  taken 
the  Tribune  for  years.    We  used  to  take  it  when 
the  editor  stayed  at  home  and  wrote  for  it.  Our 
father  used  to  take  the  Tribune,  too.    He  is  the 
editor  of  the  Omaha  Republican,  and  needs  a  good 
New  York  paper,  but  he  has  quit  taking  the  Tri- 
bune.   He  said  he  must  withdraw  his  patronage 


A  SNORT  OF  AGONY. 


133 


from  a  paper  that  is  edited  by  a  tourist.  All  the 
Nyes  will  now  stop  taking  the  Tribune,  and  all 
subscribe  for  some  other  dreary  paper.  We  don't 
know  just  whether  it  will  be  Harper's  Weekly,  or 
the  Shroud. 

Later. — Mr.  Keid  went  through  here  on  Tues- 
day, and  told  us  that  he  might  have  been  w^rong 
in  referring  to  us  as  a  journalistic  pal  of  Frank 
Hatton,  and  in  fact  did  not  know  that  the  Tri- 
bune had  said  so.    He  simply  told  Nicholson  to 
kind  of  generally  go  for  the  administration,  and 
turn  over  a  great  man  every  morning  with  his 
scathing  pen,  and  probably  Nicholson  had  kind 
of  run  out  of  great  men,  and  tackled  the  North 
American  Indian  fighter  of  The  Boomerang.  Mr. 
Keid  also  said,  as  he  rubbed  some  camphor  ice  or- 
his  nose,  and  borrowed  a  dollar  from  his  wife  to 
buy  his  supper  here,  that  when  he  got  back  to 
New  York,  he  was  going  to  write  some  pieces  for 
the  Tribune  himself.    He  was  afraid  he  couldn't 
trust  Nicholson,  and  the  paper  had  now  got  where 
it  needed  an  editor  right  by  it  all  the  time.  He 
said  also  that  he  couldn't  afford  to  be  wakened  up 
forty  times  a  night  to  write  telegrams  to  New 
York,  telling  the  Tribune  who  to  indorse  for  gov- 
ernor.   It  was  a  nuisanco,  he  said,  to  stand  at  the 
center  of  a  way  station  telegraph  office,  in  his 
sun-flower  night  shirt,  and  write  telegrams  to 


134 


BALED  HAY. 


Nicholson,  telling  him  who  to  sass  the  next  morn- 
ing. Once,  he  said,  he  telegraphed  him  to  dis- 
member a  journalistic  pal  of  Frank  Hatton's,  and 
the  operator  made  a  mistake.  So  the  next  morn- 
ing the  Tribune  had  a  regular  old  ring- tail  peeler 
of  an  editorial,  which  planted  one  of  Mr.  Keid's 
special  friends  in  an  early  grave.  So  we  may 
know  from  this  that  moulding  the  course  of  a 
great  paper  by  means  of  red  messages,  is  fraught 
with  some  unpleasant  features. 


ALWAYS  EOOM  AT  THE  TOP. 


YOUISFG  man,  do  not  stand  lounging  on  the 
threshold  of  the  glorious  future,  while  the 
coming  years  are  big  with  possibilities,  but  take 
off  your  coat  and  spit  on  your  hands  and  win  the 
wealth  which  the  world  will  yield  you.  You  may 
not  be  able  to  write  a  beautiful  poem,  and  die  of 
starvation;  but  you  can  go  to  work  humbly  as  a 
porter  and  buy  a  whisk  broom,  and  wear  people's 
clothes  out  with  it,  and  in  five  years  you  can  go 
to  Europe  in  your  own  special  car.  As  the  straw- 
berry said  to  the  box,  "  there  is  always  room  at 
the  top." 


INACCURATE. 


/^\NCE  more  has  Laramie  been  slandered  and 
traduced.  Once  more  our  free  and  peculiar 
style  has  been  spoken  lightly  of  and  our  pride 
trailed  in  the  dust. 

Last  week  the  Police  Gazette,  an  illustrated 
family  journal  of  great  merit,  appeared  with  a 
half  page  steel  engraving,  executed  by  one  of  the 
old  masters,  representing  two  Laramie  girls  on 
horseback  yanking  a  fly  drummer  along  the  street 
at  a  gallop,  because  he  tried  to  make  a  mash  on 
them  and  they  did  not  yearn  for  his  love. 

There  are  two  or  three  little  errors  in  the 
illustration,  to  which  we  desire  to  call  the  atten- 
tion of  the  eastern  reader  of  Michael  Angelo 
masterpieces  that  appear  in  the  Police  Gazette, 
First,  the  saloon  or  hurdy-gurdy  shown  in  the  left 
foreground  is  not  the  exaet  representation  of  any 
building  in  Laramie,  and  the  dobe  pig  pens  and 
A  tents  of  which  the  town  seems  to  be  composed, 
are  not  true  to  nature. 

Again,  the  streets  do  not  look  like  the  streets  of 
Laramie.  They  look  more  like  the  public  thor- 
oughfares of  Tie  City  or  Jerusalem.  Then  the 
girls  do  not  look  like  Laramie  girls,  and  we  are 
185 


136 


BALED  HAT. 


acquainted  with  all  the  girls  in  town,  and  consider 
ourself  a  judge  of  those  matters.  The  girls  in  this 
illustration  look  too  much  as  though  they  had 
mingled  a  great  deal  with  the  people  of  the  world. 
They  do  not  have  that  shy,  frightened  and  pure 
look  that  they  ought  to  have.  They  appear  to  be 
that  kind  of  girls  that  one  finds  in  the  crowded 
metropolis  under  the  gas  light,  yearning  to  get 
acquainted  with  some  one. 

There  are  several  features  of  the  illustration 
which  we  detect  as  erroneous,  and  among  the  rest 
we  might  mention,  casually,  that  the  incident 
illustrated  never  occurred  here  at  all.  Aside  from 
these  little  irregularities  above  named,  the  picture 
is  no  cloubt  a  correct  one.  We  realize  fully  that 
times  get  dull  even  in  New  York  sometimes,  and 
it  is  necessary,  occasionally,  to  draw  on  the  imagi- 
nation, but  the  Gazette  artist  ought  to  pick  up 
some  hard  town  like  Cheyenne,  and  let  us  alone 
awhile. 


THE  WESTEEIST  "CHAP." 


~FpEW  know  how  voraciously  we  go  for  any- 
■4*-  thing  in  the  fashion  line.  Many  of  our 
exchanges  are  fashion  magazines,  and  nothing  is 
read  with  such  avidity  as  these  highly  pictorial 
aggregations  of  literature.  If  there  are  going  to 
be  any  changes  in  the  male  wardrobe  this  winter, 
it  behooves  us  to  know  what  they  are.  We  intend 
to  do  so.  It  is  our  high  prerogative  and  glorious 
privilege  to  live  in  a  land  of  information.  If  we 
do  not  provide  ourself  with  a  few,  it  is  our  own 
fault.  Man  has  spanned  the  ocean  with  an  elec- 
tric cable,  and  runs  his  street  cars  with  another 
cable  that  puts  people  out  of  their  misery  as  quick 
as  a  giant-powder  caramel  in  a  man's  chest-pro- 
tector, under  certain  circumstances.  Science  has 
done  almost  everything  for  us,  except  to  pay  our 
debts  without  leaning  toward  repudiation.  We 
are  making  rapid  strides  in  the  line  of  progression. 
That  is,  the  scientists  are.  Every  little  while  you 
can  hear  a  scientist  burst  a  basting  thread  off  his 
overalls,  while  making  a  stride. 

It  is  equally  true  that  we  are  marching  rapidly 
along  in  the  line  of  fashion.     Change,  unceasing 
change,  is  the  war  cry,  and  he  who  undertakes  to 
137 


138 


BALED  HAY. 


go  through  the  winter  with  the  stage  costumes  of 
the  previous  winter,  will  find,  as  Voltaire  once 
said,  that  it  is  a  cold  day. 

¥e  look  with  great  concern  upon  the  rapid 
changes  which  a  few  weeks  have  made.  The  full 
voluptuous  swell  and  broad  cincha  of  the  chapa- 
rajo  have  given  place  to  the  tight  pantaletts  with 
feathers  on  them,  convejnng  the  idea  that  they 
cannot  be  removed  until  death,  or  an  earthquake 
shall  occur. 

"  Chaps,"  as  they  are  vulgarly  called,  deserve 
more  than  a  passing  notice.  They  are  made  of 
leather  with  fronts  of  dog-skin  with  the  hair  on. 
The  inside  breadths  are  of  calf  or  sheep-skin,  made 
plain,  but  trimmed  down  the  side  seam  with  buck- 
skin bugles  and  oil-tanned  bric-a-brac  of  the  time 
of  Michael 'Angelo  Kelley.  On  the  front  are  plain 
pockets  used  for  holding  the  ball  programme  and 
the  "  pop."  The  pop  is  a  little  design  in  nickel 
and  steel,  which  is  often  used  as  an  inhaler.  It 
clears  out  the  head,  and  leaves  the  nasal  passages 
and  phrenological  chart  out  on  the  sidewalk, 
where  pure  air  is  abundant.  "Chaps"  are  rather 
attractive  while  the  wearer  is  on  horseback,  or 
walking  toward  you,  but  when  he  chasses  and 
"  all  waltz  to  places,"  you  discern  that  the  seat  of 
the  garment  has  been  postponed  sine  die.  This, 
at  first,  induces  a  pang  in  the  breast  of  the 


THE  WESTERN   U  CHAP.'5 


139 


beholder.  Later,  however,  you  become  accus- 
tomed to  the  barren  and  perhaps  even  stern 
demeanor  of  the  wearer.  You  gradually  gain 
control  of  yourself  and  master  your  raging  desire 
to  rush  up  and  pin  the  garment  together.  The 
dance  goes  on.  The  elite  take  an  adult's  dose  of 
ice-cream  and  other  refreshments ;  the  leader  of 
the  mad  waltz  glides  down  the  hall  with  his  me- 
diaeval "  chaps/5  swishing  along  as  he  sails ;  the 
violin  gives  a  last  shriek ;  the  superior  fiddle  rips 
the  robe  of  night  wide  open,  with  a  parting  bzzzzt; 
the  mad  frolic  is  over,  and  $5  have  gone  into  the 
dim  and  unfrequented  freight  depot  of  the  frog- 
pond-environed  past. 


A~N  USTOIDEKT  OF  THE  CAM- 
PAIGN. 


/COLONEL  THOMAS  JUNIUS  DAYTON 
entered  the  democratic  headquarters  on 
Second  street,  a  few  nights  ago,  having  been 
largely  engaged,  previously,  in  talking  over  the 
political  situation,  with  sugar  in  it.  The  first 
person  he  saw  on  entering,  was  an  individual  in 
the  back  part  of  the  room,  writing. 

Colonel  Dayton  ordered  him  out. 

The  man  would  not  go,  maintaining  that  he  had 
a  right  to  meet  together  in  democratic  headquar- 
ters as  often  as  he  desired.  The  Colonel  still 
insisted  that  he  was  an  outsider  and  could  have 
nothing  in  common  with  the  patriotic  band  of 
bourbons  whose  stamping  ground  he  had  thus 
entered. 

Finally  the  excitement  became  so  great  that  a 
man  was  called  in  to  umpire  the  game  and  sponge 
off  the  hostiles,  but  before  blood  was  shed  a  peace- 
maker asked  Colonel  Dayton  what  the  matter 
was  with  him. 

"This  man  is  a  Democrat.  I've  known  him  for 
years.  What's  the  reason  you  don't  want  him  in 
here?" 

140 


AN  INCIDENT  OF  THE  CAMPAIGN.  141 

"That's  all  right,"  said  the  Colonel,  with  his 
eyes  starting  from  their  sockets  with  indignation, 
"you  people  can  be  easily  fooled.  I  cannot.  I 
know  him  to  be  a  spy  in  our  camp.  I  have 
smelled  his  breath  and  find  he  is  not  up  in  the 
Ohio  degree.  I  have  also  discovered  him  to  be 
able  to  read  and  write.  He  cannot  answer  a 
single  democratic  test.  He  is  a  bogus  bourbon, 
and  my  sentiments  are  that  he  should  be  gently 
but  firmly  fired.  If  the  band  will  play  something 
in  D  that  is  kind  of  tremulous,  I  will  take  off  my 
coat  and  throw  the  gentleman  over  into  a  vacant 
lot.  I  think  I  know  a  Democrat  when  I  see  him. 
Perhaps  you  do  not.  He  cannot  respond  to  a 
single  grand  hailing  sign.  He  hasn't  the  can- 
celled internal  revenue  stamp  on  his  nose,  and  his 
breath  lacks  that  spicy  election  odor  which  we 
know  so  well.  Away  with  him !  Fling  his  pal- 
pitating remains  over  the  drawbridge  and  walk 
on  him.  Spread  him  out  on  the  ramparts  and 
jam  him  into  the  culverin.  Those  are  my  senti- 
ments. We  want  no  electroplate  Democrats  here. 
This  is  the  stronghold  of  the  highly  aesthetic  and 
excessively  Ion-ton,  Andrew  Jackson  peeler,  and 
if  justice  cannot  be  done  to  this  usurper  by  the 
party,  I  shall  have  to  go  out  and  get  an  infirm 
hoe  handle  and  administer  about  $9  worth  of 
rebuke  myself." 


142 


BALED  HAY. 


He  went  out  after  the  hoe  handle,  and  while 
absent,  the  stranger  said  he  didn't  want  to  be  the 
cause  of  any  ill  feeling,  or  to  stand  in  the  way  of 
the  prosperity  of  his  party,  so  he  would  not 
remain.  He  put  on  his  hat  and  stole  out  into  the 
night,  a  quiet  martyr  to  the  blind  rage  of  Colonel 
Dayton,  and  has  not  since  been  seen. 


EN  HILL  died,  after  suffering  intolerable 


J—*  anguish  from  a  tobacco  cancer,  caused  by 
excessive  smoking.  The  consumers  of  the  west- 
ern-made cigar  are  now  and  then  getting  a  nice 
little  dose  of  leprosy  from  the  Chinese  constructed 
cigars  of  San  Francisco,  and  yet  people  go  right 
on  inviting  the  most  horrible  diseases  known  to 
science,  by  smoking,  and  smoking  to  excess.  Why 
do  they  do  it  ?  It  is  one  of  those  deep,  dark  mys- 
teries that  nothing  but  death  can  unravel.  We 
cannot  fathom  it,  that's  certain.  (Give  us  a  light, 
please.) 


WHY  DO  THEY  DO  IT? 


TWO  STYLES. 


ONE  of  the  peculiarities  of  correspondence  is 
witnessed  at  this  office  every  day,  to  which 
we  desire  to  call  the  attention  of  our  growing 
girls  and  boys,  who  ought  to  know  that  there  is  a 
long  way  and  a  short  way  of  saying  things  on 
paper ;  a  right  way  and  a  wrong  way  to  express 
thoughts  on  a  postal  card,  just  as  there  is  in  con- 
versation. We  all  admire  the  business  man  who 
is  terse  and  to  the  point,  and  we  dislike  the  man 
who  hangs  on  to  the  door  knob  as  though  life  was 
a  never-ending  summer  dream,  and  refuses  to  say 
good-bye.  It's  so  with  correspondence.  In  touch- 
ing upon  the  letters  received  at  this  office,  we 
refer  to  a  car  load  received  at  this  office  during 
the  past  year,  relating  to  sample  .copies.  Still 
they  are  a  good  specimen  of  the  different  styles  of 
doing  the  same  thing. 

For  instance,  here  is  a  line  which  tells  the  story 
in  brief,  without  wearing  out  your  eyes  and  days 
by  ponderous  phrases  and  useless  verbiage.  "  Use- 
less verbiage  and  frothy  surplusage"  is  a  synonym 
which  we  discovered  in  '75,  while  excavating  for 
the  purpose  of  laying  the  foundations  of  our  im- 
posing residence  up  the  gulch.  Persons  using  the 
143 


144 


BALED  HAY. 


same  will  please  fork  over  ten  per  cent  of  the 
gross  receipts ; 

"  Bangor,  Maine,  11-10-82. 

"  Find  10c  for  which  send  sample  copy  Boome- 
rang to  above  address.    Yours,  etc., 

"  Thomas  Billinos." 

Some  would  have  said  "  please "  find  inclosed 
ten  cents.  That  is  not  absolutely  necessary.  If 
you  put  ten  cents  in  the  letter  that  covers  all 
seeming  lack  of  politeness  and  it's  all  right.  If, 
however,  you  are  out  of  a  job,  and  have  nothing 
else  to  do  but  to  write  for  sample  copies  of  papers, 
and  wait  for  the  department  at  Washington  to 
allow  you  a  pension,  you  might  say,  "  Please  find 
inclosed,"  etc.,  otherwise  the  ten  cents  will  make 
it  all  right. 

Here's  another  style,  which  evinces  a  peculiarity 
we  do  not  admire.  It  bespeaks  the  man  who 
thinks  that  life  and  its  associations  are  given  us 
in  order  to  wear  out  the  time,  waiting  patiently 
meanwhile  for  Gabriel  to  render  his  little  overture. 

It  occurs  to  us  that  life  is  real,  life  is  earnest, 
and  so  forth.  We  cannot  sit  here  in  the  gather- 
ing gloom  and  read  four  pages  of  a  letter,  which 
only  expresses  what  ought  to  have  been  expressed 
in  four  lines.  We  feel  that  we  are  here  to  do  the 
greatest  good  to  the  greatest  number,  and  we  dis- 
like the  correspondent  who  hangs  on  to  the 


TWO  STYLES. 


145 


literary  door  knob,  so  to  speak,  and  absorbs  our 
time,  which  is  worth  $5.35  per  hour. 
Here  we  go — 

"New  Centreville,  Wis.,  Nov.  3,  1882. 
" Mr,  William  Nye,  esq.,  Laramie  City,  Wyoming: 

"Dear  Sir: —  I  have  often  saw  in  our  home 
papers  little  pieces  cut  out  of  your  paper  The 
Larmy  Boomerang,  yet  I  have  never  saw  the 
paper  itself.  I  hardly  pick  up  a  paper,  from  the 
Fireside.  Friend  to  the  Christian  at  Work,  that  I 
do  not  see  something  or  a  nother  from  your 
faseshus  pen  and  credited  to  The  Boomerang.  I 
have  asked  our  bookstore  for  a  copy  of  the  paper, 
and  he  said  go  to  grass,  there  wasn't  no  such 
perioddickle  in  existence.  He  is  a  liar ;  but  I  did 
not  tell  him  so  because  I  am  just  recovering  from 
a  case  of  that  kind  now,  which  swelled  both  eyes 
shet  and  placed  me  under  the  doctor's  care. 

"  It  was  the  result  of  a  campaign  lie,  and  at  this 
moment  I  do  not  remember  whether  it  was  the 
other  man  or  me  which  told  it.  Things  got  con- 
fused and  I  am  not  clear  on  the  matter  now. 

"  I  send  ten  cents  in  postage  stamps,  hoping  you 
will  favor  me  with  a  speciment  copy  of  The 
Boomerang  and  I  may  suscribe.  I  send  postage 
stamps  because  they  are  more  convenient  to  me, 
and  I  suppose  that  you  can  use  them  all  right  as 
you  must  have  a  good  deal  of  writing  to  do.  I 
10 


146 


BALED  HAY. 


intend  to  read  the  paper  thoriw  and  give  my 
folks  the  benefit  also.  I  love  to  read  humerrus 
pieces  to  my  children  and  my  wife  and  hear  their 
gurgiy  laugh  well  up  like  a  bobollink's.  I  now 
take  a  nest  em  paper  which  is  gloomy  in  its 
tendencies,  and  I  call  it  the  Morg.  It  looks  at  the 
dark  side  of  life  and  costs  83  a  year  and  postage. 

"  So  send  the  speciment  if  you  please  and  I  will 
probbly  suscribe  for  The  Boomerang,  as  I  have 
saw  a  good  many  extrax  from  it  in  our  papers 
here  and  I  have  not  as  yet  saw  your  paper.  So 
good  bye.  Yours  truly, 

"  James  Letsox." 


GOSHALLHEMLOOK  SAL  YE. 


THE  bull-whacking,  mule-skinning  proprietor 
of  a  life-giving  salve  wants  us  to  advertise 
for  him,  and  to  state  that,  with  his  Goskallhem- 
lock  salve  he  "  can  cure  all  chronicle  diseases  what- 
ever." We  would  do  it  if  we  could,  sweet  being : 
but  owing  to  the  fullness  of  the  paper  and  the 
foreman,  we  must  turn  you  cruelly  away. 


UNivr^iJY  or  pi  library 

SEP  Z  0  1919 


THE  STAGE  BALD-HEAD. 


~\  /TOST  everyone,  who  was  not  born  blind, 
-i-VX  knows  that  the  stage  bald-head  is  a  delusion 
and  a  snare.  The  only  all-wool,  yard-wide  bald- 
head  we  remember  on  the  American  stage,  is  that 
of  Dunstan  Kirke  as  worn  by  the  veteran  Coul- 
dock.  Effie  Ellsler  wears  her  own  hair  and  so 
does  Couldock,  but  Couldock  wears  his  the  most. 
It  is  the  most  worn  anyhow. 

What  we  started  out  to  say,  is,  that  the  stage 
bald-head  and  the  average  stage  whiskers  make 
us  weary  with  life.  The  stage  bald-head  is  gen- 
erally made  of  the  internal  economy  of  a  cow, 
dried  so  that  it  shines,  and  cut  to  fit  the  head  as 
tightly  as  a  potatoe  sack  would  naturally  fit  a  bill- 
iard cue.  It  is  generally  about  four  shades 
whiter  than  the  red  face  of  the  wearer,  or  vice 
versa.  We  do  not  know  which  is  the  worst 
violation  of  eternal  fitness,  tli£  red-faced  man 
who  wears  a  deathly  white  bald-head,  or  the  pale 
young  actor  who  wears  a  florid  roof  on  his  intel- 
lect. Sometimes  in  starring  through  the  country 
and  playing  ten  or  fifteen  hundred  engagements, 
a  bald-head  gets  soiled.  We  notice  that  when  a 
show  gets  to  Laramie  the  chances  are  that  the 
147 


148 


BALED  HAY. 


bald-head  of  the  leading  old  man  is  so  soiled  that  he 
really  needs  a  sheep-dip  shampoo.  Another  feature 
of  this  accessory  of  the  stage  is  its  singular  failure 
to  fit.  It  is  either  a  little  short  at  both  ends,  or  it 
hangs  over  the  skull  in  large  festoons,  and  wens 
and  warts,  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  the  audience 
believe  that  the  wearer  has  dropsy  of  the  brain. 

You  can  never  get  a  stage  bald-head  near 
enough  like  nature  to  fool  the  average  house-fly. 
A  fly  knows  in  two  moments  whether  it  is  the 
genuine,  or  only  a  base  imitation,  and  the  bald- 
head  of  the  theatre  fills  him  with  nausea  and  dis- 
gust. Nature,  at  all  times  hard  to  imitate,  pre- 
serves her  bald  head  as  she  does  her  sunny  skies 
and  deep  blue  seas,  far  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
weak,  fallible,  human  imitator.  Baldness  is  like 
lame,  it  cannot  be  purchased.  It  must  be  acquired. 
Some  men  may  be  born  bald,  some  may  acquire 
baldness,  and  others  may  have  baldness  thrust 
upon  them,  but  they  generally  acquire  it. 

The  stage  beard  is  also  rather  dizzy,  as  a  rule. 
It  looks  as  much  like  a  beard  that  grew  there,  as 
a  cow's  tail  would  if  tied  to  the  bronze  dog  on  the 
front  porch.  When  you  tie  a  heavy  black  beard 
on  a  young  actor,  whose  whole  soul  would  be 
churned  up  if  he  smoked  a  full-fledged  cigar,  he 
looks  about  as  savage  as  a  bowl  of  mush  and  milk 
struck  with  a  club. 


FATHEELT  WOEDS. 


W.  P.,  writes :— "  I  am  a  young  man  twenty- 
•  five  years  old.    I  am  in  love  with  a  young 
lady  of  seventeen.    Her  mind  being  very  different 
from  mine,  I  have  not  told  her  of  my  love,  nor 
asked  to  call  on  her.    I  thought  her  so  giddy  that 
she  did  not  want  any  steady  company.    She  is  a 
great  lover  of  amusement.    She  is  a  perfect  lady 
in  her  deportment,  although  she  is  more  like  a 
child  of  fourteen  than  a  young  lady  of  seventeen. 
I  think  she  is  very  pretty,  but  she  seems  to  enjoy 
flirting  to  the  greatest  extent.    One  evening  at  a 
party  I  asked  her  to  promenade  with  me,  and  she 
would  not  do  it.    I  then  asked  her  to  allow  me  to 
bring  her  refreshments,  which  she  would  not  do. 
I  then  asked  her  to  let  me  take  her  home  when 
she  was  ready  to  go,  and  the  answer  was,  'No,  I 
will  not  do  any  such  thing,'  and  turning  round 
she  left  me.    I  have  met  her  several  times  since. 
She  always  bows  to  me.    Everywhere  she  meets 
me  she  recognizes  me  pleasantly.    Now,  did  I  do 
wrong  in  asking  her  those  privileges  at  the  party, 
I  having  no  introduction  to  her?    I  am  still  in 
love  with  her." 

After  she  had  refused  to  promenade  with  you, 
149 


150 


BALED  HAY. 


and  had  declined  to  permit  you  to  bring  her 
refreshments,  it  was  pressing  matters  rather  too 
far  for  you  to  ask  her  to  allow  you  to  accompany 
her  home  "  whenever  she  was  ready  to  go."  Still, 
as  she  treats  you  kindly  whenever  you  meet,  it  is 
evident  that  you  did  not  offend  her  very  deeply. 
Perhaps  she  sees  that  you  love  her,  and  does  not 
wish  to  discourage  you. 

You  were,  no  doubt,  a  little  previous  in  trying 
to  get  acquainted  with  the  young  lady.  She  may 
be  giddy,  but  she  has  just  about  sized  you  up  in 
shape,  and  no  doubt,  if  you  keep  on  trying  to 
love  her  without  her  knowledge  or  consent,  she 
will  hit  you  with  something,  and  put  a  Swiss  sun- 
set over  your  eye.  Do  not  yearn  to  win  her 
affections  all  at  once.  Give  her  twenty  or  thirty 
years  in  which  to  see  your  merits.  You  will  have 
more  to  entitle  you  to  her  respect  by  that  time, 
no  doubt.  During  that  time  you  may  rise  to  be 
president  and  win  a  deathless  name. 

The  main  thing  you  have  to  look  out  for  now, 
however,  is  to  restrain  yourself  from  marrying 
people  who  do  not  want  to  marry  you,  That 
style  of  freshness  will,  in  thirty  or  forty  years, 
wear  away.  If  it  does  not,  probably  the  vigorous 
big  brother  of  some  "  young  lady  of  seventeen," 
will  consign  you  to  the  silent  tomb.  Do  not  try 
to  promenade  with  a  young  lady  unless  she  gives 


FATHERLY  WORDS. 


151 


her  consent*  Do  not  marry  anyone  against  her 
wishes.  Give  the  girl  a  chance.  She  will  appre- 
ciate it,  and  even  though  she  may  not  marry  you, 
she  will  permit  you  to  sit  on  the  fence  and  watch 
her  when  she  goes  to  marry  some  one  else*  Do 
not  be  despondent.  Be  courageous,  and  some 
day,  perhaps,  you  will  get  there.  At  present  the 
horizon  is  a  little  bit  foggy. 

As  you  say,  she  may  be  so  giddy  that  she 
doesn't  want  steady  company.  There  is  a  glim- 
mer of  hope  in  that.  She  may  be  waiting  till 
she  gets  over  the  agony  and  annoyance  of  teeth- 
ing before  she  looks  seriously  into  the  matters  of 
matrimony.  If  that  should  turn  out  to  be  the 
case  w^e  are  not  surprised.  Give  her  a  chance  to 
grow  up,  and  in  the  meantime,  go  and  learn  the 
organ  grinder's  profession  and  fix  yourself  so  that 
you  can  provide  for  a  family.  Sometimes  a  girl 
only  seventeen  years  old  is  able  to  discern  that  a 
young  intellectual  giant  like  you  is  not  going  to 
make  a  dazzling  success  of  life  as  a  husband. 
Brace  up  and  try  to  forget  your  sorrow,  K".  W.  P., 
and  you  may  be  happy  yet. 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING. 


"  A  NGOKA  cloth  is  a  Parisian  novelty.  Shaggy 
woolen  goods  are  all  the  rage,  and  this 
Angora  cloth  is  a  perfect  type  of  shaggy  mate- 
rials. It  is  a  soft,  downy  article,  like  the  fur  of  an 
Angora  cat.  Very  showy  toilets  are  of  Angora 
cloth,  trimmed  with  velvet  applique  work  to  form 
passementerie." 

Angora  cloth  may  be  fashionable,  but  the  odor 
of  the  Angora  goat  is  losing  favor.  A  herd  of 
these  goats  crossed  the  Sierra  Nevadas  during  the 
autumn,  and  as  soon  as  they  got  over  the  range, 
we  knew  it  at  Laramie  just  as  well  as  we  knew  of 
the  earthquake  shock  on  the  7th  instant. 

The  Angora  goat  is  very  quiet  in  other  respects; 
but  as  a  fragrant  shrub,  he  certainly  demands 
attention.  A  little  band  of  Angora  goats  has  beeji 
quartered  in  Laramie  City  lately,  and  though  they 
have  been  well  behaved,  they  have  made  them- 
selves known,  from  time  to  time,  whenever  we 
have  opened  the  casement  to  let  in  the  glorious 
air  of  heaven.  In  letting  in  the  glorious  air  of 
heaven,  we  have  in  several  instances  let  in  a  good 
deal  of  the  mohair  industry  and  some  seductive 
fragrance. 

152 


THE  GOOD  TIME  COMING. 


153 


There  is  a  glowing  prospect  that  within  the 
next  year  a  bone  fertilizer  mill,  a  soap  emporium 
and  a  glue  factory  will  have  been  started  here ; 
and  now,  with  the  Angora  goat  looming  up  in  the 
distance  Avith  his  molasses-candy  horns,  his  erect, 
but  tremulous  and  undecided  tail  piercing  the 
atmosphere,  and  the  seductive  odor  peculiar  to  this 
fowl,  we  feel  that  life  in  Wyoming  will  not,  after 
all,  be  a  hollow  mockery.  Heretofore  we  have 
been  compelled  to  worry  along  with  polygamy  and 
the  odor  of  the  alkali  flat;  but  times  are  changing 
now,  and  we  will  one  day  have  all  the  wonderful 
and  complicated  smells  of  Chicago  at  our  door. 
Then  will  the  desert  indeed  blossom  as  the  rose, 
and  the  mountain  lion  and  "Billy  the  Kid"  will 
lie  down  together. 


Mama  foe  maekix  g  clothes. 


THE  most  quiet,  unobtrusive  man  I  ever 
knew/'  said  Buck  Bramel  to  a  Boomekaxg 
man,  ".was  a  young  fellow  who  went  into  JvTortk 
Park  in  an  early  day  from  the  Salmon  river.  He 
was  also  reserved  and  taciturn  among  the  miners, 
and  never  made  any  suggestions  if  he  could  avoid 
it.  He  was  also  the  most  thoughtful  man  about 
other  people's  comfort  I  ever  knew. 

"  I  went  into  the  cabin  one  day  where  he  was 
lying  on  the  bed,  and  told  him  I  had  decided  to 
go  into  Laramie  for  a  couple  of  weeks  to  do  some 
trading,  I  put  my  valise  down  on  the  floor  and 
was  going  out.  when  he  asked  me  if  my  clothes 
were  marked.  I  told  him  that  I  never  marked  my 
clothes.  If  the  washerwoman  wanted  to  mix  up 
my  wardrobe  with  that  of  a  female  seminary,  I 
would  have  to  stand  it,  I  supposed. 

"  He  thought  I  ought  to  mark  my  clothes  before 
I  went  away,  and  said  he  would  attend  to  it  for 
me.  So  he  took  down  his  revolver  and  put  three 
shots  through  the  valise. 

"  After  that  a  coolness  sprang  up  between  us, 
and  the  warm  friendship  that  had  existed  so  long 
was  more  or  less  busted.    After  that  he  marked  a 
154 


NOVEL  WAY  OF  MAliKING  CLOTHES. 


MANIA  FOR  MARKING  CLOTHES.  157 

man's  clothes  over  in  Leadville  in  the  same  way, 
only  the  man  had  them  on  at  the  time.  He 
seemed  to  have  a  mania  on  that  "subject,  and  as 
they  had  no  insanity  experts  at  Leadville  in  those 
days,  they  thought  the  most  economical  way  to 
examine  his  brain  would  be  to  hang  him,  and  then 
send  the  brain  to  New  York  in  a  baking  powder 
can. 

"  So  they  hung  him  one  night  to  the  bough  of 
a  sighing  mountain  pine. 

"  The  autopsy  was,  of  course,  crude ;  but  they 
sawed  open  his  head  and  scooped  out  the  brain 
with  a  long  handled  spoon  and  sent  it  on  to  New 
York.  By  some  mistake  or  other  it  got  mixed  up 
with  some  sample  specimens  of  ore  from  'The 
Brindle  Tom  Cat'  discovery,  and  was  sent  to  the 
assayer  in  New  York  instead  of  the  insanity 
smelter  and  refiner,  as  was  intended. 

"  The  result  was  that  the  assayer  wrote  a  very 
touching  and  grieved  letter  to  the  boys,  saying 
that  he  was  an  old  man  anyway,  and  he  wished 
they  would  consider  his  gray  hairs  and  not  try  to 
palm  off  their  old  groceries  on  him.  He  might 
have  made  errors  in  his  assays,  perhaps  —  all  men 
were  more  or  less  liable  to  mistakes  —  but  he  flat- 
tered himself  that  he  could  still  distinguish  be- 
tween a  piece  of  blossom  rock  and  a  can  of 
decomposed  lobster  salad,  even  if  it  was  in  a  bak- 


158 


BALED  HAY. 


ing-powder  can.  He  hoped  they  would  not  try 
to  be  facetious  at  his  expense  any  more,  but  use 
him  as  they  would  like  to  be  treated  themselves 
when  they  got  old  and  began  to  totter  down 
toward  the  silent  tomb. 

"  This  is  why  we  never  knew  to  a  dead  moral 
certainty,  whether  he  was  O.  K.  in  the  upper 
story,  or  not." 


KEGAKDmQ  THE  JsTOSE. 


THE  annals  of  surgery  contain  many  cases 
where  the  nose  has  been  cut  or  torn  off,  and 
being  replaced  has  grown  fast  again,  recovering 
its  jeopardized  functions.  One  of  the  earliest, 
1680,  is  related  by  the  surgeon  (Fioraventi)  who 
happened  to  be  near  by  when  a  man's  nose,  hav- 
ing been  cut  off,  had  fallen  in  the  sand.  He 
remarks  that  he  took  it  up,  washed  it,  replaced  it, 
and  that  it  grew  together. 

Still,  this  is  a  little  bit  hazardous,  and  in  warm 
weather  the  nose  might  refuse  to  catch  on.  It 
would  be  mortifying  in  the  extreme  to  have  the 
nose  drop  off  in  a  dish  of  ice-cream  at  a  large 
banquet.  Not  only  would  it  be  disagreeable  to 
the  owner  of  the  nose,  but  to  those  who  sat  near 
him. 


REGARDING  THE  NOSE. 


159 


He  adds  the  address  of  the  owner  of  the 
repaired  nose,  and  requests  any  doubter -to  go  and 
examine  for  himself.  Regnault,  in  the  Gazette 
Salutaire,  1714,  tells  of  a  patient  whose  nose  was 
bitten  off  by  a  smuggler.  The  owner  of  the  nose 
wrapped  it  in  a  bit  of  cloth  and  sought  Regnault, 
who,  "  although  the  part  was  cold,  reset  it,  and  it 
became  attached.5' 

This  is  another  instance  where,  by  being  suffi- 
ciently previous,  the  nose  was  secured  and  handed 
down  to  future  generations.  Yet,  as  we  said  be- 
fore, it  is  a  little  bit  risky,  and  a  nose  of  that 
character  cannot  be  relied  upon  at  all  times. 
After  a  nose  has  once  seceded  it  cannot  be 
expected  to  still  adhere  to  the  old  constitution 
with  such  loyalty  as  prior  to  that  change. 

Although  these  cases  call  for  more  credulity 
than  most  of  us  have  to  spare,  yet  later  cases, 
published  in  trustworthy  journals,  would  seem  to 
corroborate  this.  In  the  Clinical  Annals  and 
Medical  Gazette,  of  Heidelberg,  1830,  there  are 
sixteen  similar  cases  cited  by  the  surgeon  (Dr. 
Hofacker)  who  was  appointed  by  the  senate  to 
attend  the  duels  of  the  students. 

It  seems  that  during  these  duels  it  is  not 
uncommon  for  a  student  to  slice  off  the  nose  of 
his  adversary,  and  lay  it  on  the  table  until  the 
duel  is  over.    After  that  the  surgeon  puts  it  on 


160 


BALED  HAY. 


with  mucilage  and  it  never  misses  a  meal,  but 
keeps  right  on  growing. 

The  wax  nose  is  attractive,  but  in  a  warm  room 
it  is  apt  to  get  excited  and  wander  down  into  the 
mustache,  or  it  may  stray  away  under  the  collar, 
and  when  the  proprietor  goes  to  wipe  this  feature 
he  does  not  wipe  anything  but  space.  A  gold 
nose  that  opens  on  one  side  and  is  engraved,  with 
hunter  case  and  key  wind,  is  attractive,  especially 
on  a  bright  day.  The  coin-silver  nose  is  very  well 
in  its  way,  but  rather  commonplace  unless  de- 
signed to  match  the  tea  service  and  the  knives 
and  forks.  In  that  case,  good  taste  is  repaid  by 
admiration  and  pleasure  on  the  part  of  the  guest. 

The  papier-mache  nose  is  durable  and  less  liable 
to  become  cold  and  disagreeable.  It  is  also 
lighter  and  not  liable  to  season  crack. 

False  noses  are  made  of  papier-mache,  leather, 
gold,  silver  and  wax.  These  last  are  fitted  to 
spectacles  or  springs,  and  are  difficult  to  distin- 
guish from  a  true  nose. 

Tycho  Brahe  lost  his  nose  in  a  duel  and  wore  a 
golden  one,  which  he  attached  to  his  face  with 
cement,  which  he  always  carried  about. 

This  was  a  good  scheme,  as  it  found  him  always 
prepared  for  accidents.  He  could,  at  any  moment, 
repair  to  a  dressing  room,  or  even  slide  into  an 
alley  where  he  could  avoid  the  prying  gaze  of  the 


SOMETHING  TOO  MUCH  OF  THIS. 


161 


vulgar  world,  and  glue  his  nose  on.  Of  course  he 
ran  the  risk  of  getting  it  on  crooked  and  a  little 
out  of  line  with  his  other  features,  but  this  would 
naturally  only  attract  attention  and  fix  the  minds 
of  those  with  whom  he  might  be  called  upon  to 
converse.  A  man  with  his  nose  glued  on  wrong 
side  up,  could  hold  the  attention  of  an  audience 
for  hours,  when  any  other  man  would  seem 
tedious  and  uninteresting. 


SOMETHING  TOO  MUCH  OF  THIS. 


rpHE  Pawnee  Republican,  of  the  13th,  inno- 
cently  and  impertinently,  remarks  :  "  Fred 
Nye,  father  of  Bill  Nye,  the  humorist,  is  the  editor 
of  the  Omaha  Republican,  vice  Datus  Brooks, 
gone  to  Europe."—  Omaha  Herald. 

Will  the  press  of  the  country  please  provide  us 
with  a  few  more  parents  ?  Old  J  im  Nye  and  sev- 
eral other  valuable  fathers  of  ours  having  already 
clomb  the  golden  elevator,  we  now  feel  like  a 
comparative  orphan.  The  time  was  when  we 
could  hold  a  reunion  of  our  parents  and  have  a 
„  pretty  big  time,  but  it's  a  mighty  lonely  thing  to 
stand  on  the  shores  of  time  and  see  your  parents 
whittled  down  to  three  or  four  young  men  no 
bigger  than  Fred  Nye,  of  the  Republican, 
11 


OOLOE  BLETOSTESS. 


THE  Paper  World  says  there's  no  use  talking; 
the  newspaper  men  of  the  press  are  to-day 
becoming  more  and  more  "  color  blind."  In  other 
words,  they  have  lost  that  subtle  flavor  of 
description  for  which  the  public  yearns.  They 
have  missed  that  wonderful  spice  and  aroma  of 
narration  which  is  the  life  of  all  newspaper  work. 

We  do  not  take  this  to  ourself  at  all,  but  we 
desire  before  we  say  one  word,  to  make  a  few 
remarks.  The  Boomerang  has  been  charged  with 
erring  on  the  other  side  and  coloring  things  a 
little  too  high.  Sir  Garnet  Wolseley,  in  a  private 
letter  to  us  during  the  late  Egyptian  assault  and 
battery,  stated  that  if  we  erred  at  all  it  was  on 
the  highly  colored  side. 

There  is  an  excuse  for  lack  of  spice  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing  in  the  newspaper  world.  The  men 
who  write  for  our  dailies,  as  a  rule,  have  to  write 
about  two  miles  per  day,  and  they  ought  not  to  be 
kicked  if  it  is  not  as  interesting  as  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  or  "  Leaves  o'  Grass." 

We  have  done  some  900  miles  of  writing  ourself 
during  our  short,  sharp  and  decisive  career,  and  we 
know  what  we  are  talking  about.  Those  things  we 
162 


COLOR  BLINDNESS.  *  163 

wrote  at  a  time  when  we  were  spreading  our 
graceful  characters  over  ten  acres  of  paper  per 
■  day,  were  not  thrilling.  They  did  not  catch  the 
public  eye,  but  were  just  naturally  consigned  to 
oblivion's  bottomless  maw. 

Read  that  last  sentence  twice;  it  will  do  you 
no  harm. 

The  public,  it  seems  to  us,  has  created  a  false 
standard  of  merit  for  the  newspaper.  People  take 
a  big  daily  and  pay  $10  per  year  for  it  because  it 
is  the  biggest  paper  in  the  world,  and  then  don't 
read  a  quarter  of  it.  They  are  doing  a  smart 
thing,  no  doubt,  but  it  is  killing  the  feverish  young 
men  with  throbbing  brains,  who  are  doing  the 
work.  Would  you  consider  that  a  large  pair  of 
shoes  or  a  large  wife  should  be  sought  for  just 
because  you  can  get  more  material  for  the  same 
price  ?    Not  much,  Mary  Ann ! 

Excellence  is  what  we  seek,  not  bulk.  Write 
better  things  and  less  of  them,  and  you  will  do 
better,  and  the  public  will  be  pleased  to  see  the 
change. 

Should  anyone  who  reads  these  words  be  suffer- 
ing from  an  insatiable  hunger  for  a  paper  that 
aims  at  elegance  of  diction,  high-toned  logic  and 
pmk  cambric  sentiment,  at  a  moderate  price,  he 
will  do  well  to  call  at  this  office  and  look  over  our 
goods.    Samples  sent  free  on  application,  to  any 


Ig4  BALED  HAY. 

part  of  the  United  States  or  Europe.  We  refer  to 
Herbert  Spencer,  the  Laramie  National  Bank,  and 
the  postmaster  of  this  city,  as  to  our  reputation  for 
truth  and  veracity. 


A  LITTLE  PREVIOUS. 


SPEAKING  of  elections  and  returns,  brings 
back  to  our  memory  the  time  when  it  was 
pretty  close  in  a  certain  congressional  district  in 
Wisconsin,  where  W.  T.  Price  is  now  putting  up  a 
job  on  the  Democrats. 

In  those  days  returns  didn't  come  in  by  tele- 
graph, but  on  horseback  and  on  foot,  and  it  was 
annoying  to  wait  for  figures  by  which  to  deter- 
mine the  result.  At  Hudson  the  politicians  had 
made  a  pretty  close  estimate,  bat  were  waiting, 
one  evening  after  election,  at  a  saloon  on  Buckeye 
street,  for  something  definite  from  Eau  Claire 
county.  The  session  was  very  dull,  and  to  cheer 
up  the  little  Spartan  band  some  one  suggested 
that  old  Judge  Wetherby  ought  to  "  set  'em  up." 
Judge  Wetherby  was  a  staunch  old  Democrat  and 
had  rigidly  treated  himself  for  twenty  years,  and 
just  as  rigidly  refused  to  treat  anybody  else.  The 
result  was  that  he  had  secured  a  vigorous  bloom 
on  his  own  nose,  but  had  never  put  the  glass  to 


A  LITTLE  PREVIOUS.  165 

his  neighbor's  lips.  He  intimated  on  this  occasion, 
however,  that  if  he  could  get  encouraging  news 
from  Eau  Claire  for  the  Democrats,  he  would  turn 
loose.  The  party  waited  until  midnight,  and  had 
just  decided  to  go  home,  when  a  travel-worn 
horseman  rode  up  to  the  door.  He  was  very 
reticent,  and  as  he  was  a  stranger,  no  one  seemed 
to  want  to  open  up  a  conversation  with  him,  till 
at  last  Judge  Wetherby,  who  couldn't  keep  the 
great  question  of  politics  out  of  his  mind,  asked 
him  what  part  of  the  country  he  had  come  from. 
"  Just  got  in  from  Eau  Claire  county,"  was  the 
reply. 

"How  did  Eau  Claire  county  go?"  was  the 
Judge's  next  question.  "  O,  I  don't  pay  no  atten- 
tion to  politics,  but  they  told  me  it  went  453 
majority  for  the  Democrats." 

Thereupon  the  judge  threw  his  hat  in  the  air 
and  for  the  first  and  last  time  in  his  life,  treated 
the  entire  crowd  of  Kepublicans  and  Democrats 
alike.  It  was  very  late  when  he  went  home,  also 
very  late  when  he  got  down  town  the  next  day. 

When  he  did  come  down  he  was  surprised  to 
find  a  Eepubiican  brass  band  out,  and  the  news  all 
over  the  city  that  the  Eepubiican  candidate  had 
been  elected  by  several  hundred  majority.  In  the 
afternoon  he  learned  that  Hod  Taylor,  now  clergy- 
man to  Marseilles,  had  hired  a  tramp  to  ride  into 


166 


BALED  HAY. 


the  Buckeye  saloon  the  previous  evening  and 
report  as  stated,  in  order  to  bring  about  a  good 
state  of  feeling  on  the  Judge's  part.  Judge  Weth- 
erby,  since  that  time,  is  regarded  as  the  most 
skeptical  Democrat  in  that  congressional  district, 
and  even  if  he  were  to  be  assured  over  and  over 
again  that  his  party  was  victorious,  he  would  still 
doubt.  It  is  such  things  as  these  that  go  a  long 
way  toward  encouraging  a  feeling  of  distrust 
between  the  parties,  and  causes  politicians  to  be 
looked  upon  with  great  mistrust. 

Although  Mr.  Taylor  is  now  in  France  attend- 
ing to  the  affairs  of  his  government,  and  trying  to 
become  familiar  with  the  French  language,  he 
often  pauses  in  his  work  as  the  memory  of  this 
little  incident  comes  over  his  mind,  and  a  hot  tear 
falls  on  the  report  he  is  making  out  to  send  on  to 
the  Secretary  of  State  at  Washington.  Can  it  be 
that  his  hard  heart  is  at  last  touched  with  remorse  ? 


IS  DUELING  MUKDEK? 


SOMEBODY  wants  to  know  whether  dueling 
is  murder,  and  we  reply  in  clarion  tones  that 
it  depends  largely  on  how  fatal  it  is.  Dueling 
with  monogram  note  paper,  at  a  distance  of  1,200 
yards,  is  not  murder. 


HEAP  GOKE. 


NOTHEE  land-mark  of  Laramie  has  gone. 


-J--*-.  Another  wreck  has  been  strewn  upon  the 
sands  of  time.  Another  gay  bark  has  gone  to 
pieces  upon  the  cruel  rocks,  and  above  the  broken 
spars  and  jib-boom,  and  foretop  gallant  royal 
mainbrace,  and  spanker-boom  euchre  deck,  the 
cold,  damp  tide  is  moaning. 

We  refer  to  L.  W.  Shroeder,  who  recently  left 
this  place  incog.,  also  in  debt,  largely,  to  various 
people  of  this  gay  and  festive  metropolis. 

Laramie  has  been  the  home,  at  various  times, 
of  some  of  the  most  classical  dead-beats  of  modern 
times;  but  Shroeder  was  the  noblest,  the  most 
grand  and  colossal  of  dead-beats  that  has  ever 
visited  our  shores.  Born  with  unusual  abilities 
in  this  direction,  he  early  learned  how  to  enlarge 
and  improve  upon  the  talents  thus  bestowed  upon 
him,  and  here  in  Laramie,  he  soon  won  a  place  at 
the  front  as  a  man  who  purchased  everything 
and  paid  for  nothing.  He  had  a  way  of  approach- 
ing the  grocer  and  the  merchant  that  was  well 
calculated  to  deceive,  and  he  -did,  in  several 
instances,  make  representations,  which  we  now 
learn,  were  false. 


167 


168 


BALED  HAY. 


He  was,  by  profession,  a  carpenter  and  joiner, 
having  learned  the  art  while  cutting  cordwood 
on  the  Missouri  bottoms,  near  Omaha,  for  the 
Collins  Brothers.  Here  he  rapidly  won  his  way 
to  the  front  rank,  by  erecting  some  of  the  most 
commanding  architectural  ruins  of  which  modern 
wood  assassination  can  boast.  He  would  take  a 
hatchet  and  a  buck-saw  and  carve  out  his  fortune 
anywhere  in  the  world,  and  it  wouldn't  cost 
him  a  cent.  He  filled  this  whole  trans-Missouri 
country  with  his  fame,  and  his  promissory  notes, 
and  then  skinned  out  and  left  us  here  to  mourn. 

Good-bye,  Shroeder.  Wherever  you  go,  we 
will  remember  you  and  hope  that  you  may  suc- 
ceed in  piling  up  a  monument  of  indebtedness  as 
you  did  here.  You  were  industrious  and  untiring 
in  your  efforts  to  become  a  great  financial  wreck, 
and  success  has  crowned  your  efforts.  "We  will 
not  grudge  you  the  glory  that  coagulates  about 
your  massive  brow. 


THE  EDITOEIAL  LAMP. 


THEEE  is  something  unique  about  an  editor's 
lamp  that  enables  most  anyone  to  select  it 
from  a  large  number  of  other  lamps.  It  is  mi 
generis  and  extremely  original.  The  large  metro- 
politan papers  use  gas  in  the  editorial  rooms,  and 
make  up  for  the  loss  of  the  kerosene  lamp  by  fur- 
nishing their  offices  with  some  other  article  of 
furniture  that  is  equally  attractive. 

The  Boomerang  lamp,  especially  during  the 
election,  has  had  its  intensity  wonderfully  soft- 
ened and  toned  down  through  various  causes. 
You  can  take  most  any  other  lamp  and  trim  the 
wick  so  that  it  will  burn  squarely  and  not  smoke ; 
but  the  editorial  lamp  is  peculiar  in  this  respect. 
The  wick  gets  so  it  will  burn  straight  when  you 
find  that  it  does  not  burn  the  oil.  Then  you  get 
it  filled  and  put  in  a  new  wick.  Experimenting 
with  this  you  get  your  fingers  perfumed  with  coal 
oil,  and  spill  some  in  your  lap.  Then  you  turn  it 
up  so  you  can  see,  and  as  you  get  a  flow  of 
thought  you  look  up  to  find  that  you  have  smut- 
ted up  your  chimney,  and  you  murmur  something 
that  you  are  glad  no  one  is  near* to  hear.  When 
our  life-record  is  made  up  and  handed  down  to 
169 


170  BALED  HAY. 

posterity,  if  a  generous  people  will  kindly  over 
look  the  remarks  we  have  made  over  our  lamp^ 
and  also  the  little  extemporaneous  statements 
made  at  picnics,  we  will  do  as  much  for  the  public 
and  make  this  thing  as  near  even  as  possible. 


DIFFICULT  TO  IDENTIFY. 


A DEAD  fisherman  was  taken  to  the  San 
Francisco  morgue  the  other  day,  with 
nothing  by  which  to  identify  him  but  his  fish  line. 
There  may  be  features  of  difference  between  fish 
lines,  but  as  a  rule  there  is  a  long,  tame  sweep  of 
monotony  about  them  which  confuses  the  authori- 
ties in  tracing  a  man's  antecedents. 


THE  MAKOO^  SAUSAGE. 


rriHE  maroon  sausage  will  be  in  favor  this  win- 
ter,  as  was  the  case  last  season  in  our  best 
circles.    It  will  be  caught  up  at  the  end  and  tied 
in  a  plain  knot  with  strings  of  the  same. 


TESTIMONIALS  OF  REGARD. 


iEIDAY  was  a  large  day  in  the  office  of  this 


J-  paper.  A  delegation,  consisting  of  Ed. 
Walsh  and  J.  J.  Clarke,  train  dispatchers  of  this 
division  of  the  Union  Pacific  road,  waited  on  the 
editor  hereof  with  two  tokens  of  their  esteem. 
One,  consisting  of  a  bird  that  had  been  tax- 
idermed  at  "Wyoming  station  by  the  agent,  Mr. 
Gulliher,  the  great  corn-canner  of  the  west,  aided 
by  another  man  who  has,  up  to  this  date,  evaded 
the  authorities.  As  soon  as  he  is  captured,  his 
name  will  be  given  to  the  public.  The  bird  is 
mainly  constructed  on  the  duck  plan,  with  web 
feet  and  spike  tail.  The  material  gave  out,  how- 
ever, and  the  artist  was  obliged  to  complete  the 
bird  by  putting  an  eagle's  head  on  him.  This 
gives  the  winged  king  of  birds  a  low,  squatty  and 
plebian  cast  of  countenance,  and  bothers  the  nat- 
uralist in  determining  its  class  and  in  diagnosing 
the  case.  With  the  piercing,  keen  eye  of  the 
eagle,  and  the  huge  Koman  nose  peculiar  to  that 
bird,  coupled  with  the  pose  of  the  duck,  we  have 
a  magnificent  combination  in  the  way  of  an  orni- 
thological specimen.  Science  would  be  tickled  to 
death  to  wrestle  with  this  feathered  anomaly. 
171 


172 


BALED  HAY. 


The  eagle  looks  as  though  he  would  like  to  soar 
first-rate  if  it  were  not  for  circumstances  over 
which  he  has  no  control,  while  the  other  portions 
of  his  person  would  suggest  that  he  would  be  glad 
to  paddle  around  an  hour  o-  uwo  in  the  yielding 
mud.  ~We  have  placed  this  singular  circumstance 
where  he  can  look  down  upon  us  in  a  reproachful 
way,  while  we  write  abstruse  articles  upon  the 
contiguity  of  the  hence. 

The  same  committee  also  presented  a  bottle  of 
what  purported  to  be  ginger  ale.  It  was  wrapped 
up  in  a  newspaper,  and  the  cork  w^as  held  in  place 
by  a  piece  of  copper  wire.  As  we  do  not  drink 
anything  whatever  now,  we  presented  it  to  the 
composing  room,  and  told  the  boys  to  sail  in  and 
have  a  grand  debauch. 

Generosity  is  always  rewarded,  sooner  or  later. 
The  office  boy  took  it  into  the  composing  room 
and  partially  opened  it.  Then  it  opened  itself, 
with  a  loud  report  that  shook  the  dome  of  The 
Boomerang  office,  and  pied  a  long  article  on  yel- 
low fever  in  Texas.  Almost  immediately  after  it 
opened  itself,  it  escaped  into  space.  At  least  it 
filled  the  space  box  of  one  of  the  cases  full. 

There  was  only  about  a  spoonful  left  in  the 
bottle,  and  no  one  felt  as  though  he  wanted  to 
rob  the  rest,  so  it  stands  there  yet.  If  Mr.  Guh 
liher  could  put  up  his  goods  in  such  shape  as  to 


TESTIMONIALS  OF  REGARD. 


173 


avoid  this  high  degree  of  effervescence,  he  would 
succeed;  but  in  canning  corn  and  bottling  beer, 
he  has  so  far  put  too  much  vigor  into  the  goods, 
and  when  you  open  them,  they  escape  almost 
immediately. 

While  we  are  grateful  for  the  kind  and  thought- 
ful spirit  shown,  we  regret  that  we  were  unable 
to  test  the  merits  of  the  beverage  without  collect- 
ing it  from  the  sky,  where  it  now  is. 

It  looks  to  us  as  though  some  day  Mr.  Gulliher, 
while  engaged  in  canning  and  bottling  some  of 
his  gaseous  goods,  would  be  lifted  over  into  the 
middle  of  the  holidays,  and  we  warn  him  against 
being  too  reckless,  or  he  will  certainly  meander 
through  the  atmosphere  sometime,  and  the  place 
that  knew  him  once  will  know  him  no  more 
forever. 

About  two  o'clock  the  following  special  was 
received : 

[Special  to  the  Boomerang.] 

*     "[D.  H.  acct.  charity.] 

"  Wyoming,  October  27. 

11  Bear  Bill  Nye: 

"  We  made  the  run  from  Laramie  to  Wyoming 
in  one  hour.  Gulliher  says,  do  not  open  that 
bottle ;  it  might  go  off.  He  sent  you  the  wrong 
bottle  by  mistake.  It  is  a  preparation  for  anni- 
hilating tramps,  and  produces  instant  dissolution. 
We,  after  careful  inquiry  and  rigid  investigation, 


174 


BALED  HAT. 


find  that  the  bird  is  filled  with  dynamite,  nitro- 
glycerine, etc. — in  fact  is  an  '  infernal  machine,' 
and  is  set  to  go  off  at  3:30  this  P.M. 


THE  CHINESE  COMPOSITOR 


HE  Ckinese  compositor  cannot  sit  at  his  case 


-1-  as  our  printers  do,  but  must  walk  from  one 
case  to  another  constantly  >  as  the  characters 
needed  cover  such  a  large  number,  that  they  can- 
not be  put  into  anything  like  the  space  used  in 
the  English  newspaper  office.  In  setting  up  an 
ordinary  piece  of  manuscript,  the  Chinese  printer 
will  waltz  up  and  down  the  room  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  then  go  down  stairs  for  a  line  of  lower 
case.  Then  he  takes  the  elevator  and  goes  up 
into  the  third  story  after  some  caps,  and  then  goes 
out  into  the  woodshed  for  a  handful  of  astonish- 
ers.  The  successful  Chinese  compositor  doesn't 
need  to  be  so  very  intelligent,  but  he  must  be  a 
good  pedestrian.  He  may  work  and  walk  around 
over  the  building  all  day  to  set  up  a  stick  full,  and 
then  half  the  people  in  this  county  couldn't  read 
it,  after  all. 


Clarke,  Potter  and  Walsh. 


SHOWED  TODEK. 


E  have  met  the  enemy,  and  we  are  his'n. 
We  have  made  our  remarks,  and  we  are 
now  ready  to  listen  to  the  gentleman  from  Sf ew 
York.  We  could  have  dug  out,  perhaps,  and 
explained  about  New  York,  but  when  almost 
every  state  in  the  Union  rose  up  and  made  certain 
statements  yesterday,  we  found  that  the  job  of 
explaining  this  matter  thoroughly,  would  be 
wearisome  and  require  a  great  deal  of  time. 

We  do  not  blame  the  Democracy  for  this.  We 
are  a  little  surprised,  however,  and  grieved.  It 
will  interfere  with  our  wardrobe  this  winter. 
With  an  overcoat  on  Wyoming,  a  plug  hat  on 
Iowa,  a  pair  of  pantaloons  on  Pennsylvania,  and 
boots  on  the  general  result,  it  looks  now  as 
though  we  would  probably  go  through  the  winter 
wrapped  in  a  bed-quilt,  and  profound  meditation. 

We  intended  to  publish  an  extra  this  morning, 
but  the  news  was  of  such  a  character,  that  we 
thought  we  would  get  along  without  it.  What 
was  the  use  of  publishing  an  extra  with  a  Kepub- 
lican  majority  only  in  Red  Buttes. 

The  cause  of  this  great  Democratic  freshet  in 
New  York  yesterday— but  why  go  into  details, 
175 


176 


BALED  HAY. 


we  all  have  an  idea  why  it  was  so.  The  number 
of  votes  would  seem  to  indicate  that  there  was  a 
tendency  toward  Democracy  throughout  the  State. 

Now,  in  Pennsylvania,  if  you  will  look  over 
the  returns  carefully —  but  why  should  we  take 
up  your  valuable  time  offering  an  explanation  of 
a  political  matter  of  the  past. 

Under  the  circumstances  some  would  go  and 
yield  to  the  soothing  influences  of  the  maddening 
bowl,  but  we  do  not  advise  that.  It  would  only 
furnish  temporary  relief,  and  the  recoil  would  be 
unpleasant. 

We  resume  our  arduous  duties  with  a  feeling 
of  extreme  ennui,  and  with  that  sense  of  surprise 
and  astonishment  that  a  man  does  who  has  had  a 
lar^e  brick  block  fall  on  him  when  he  was  not 
expecting  it,  Although  we  feel  a  little  lonely 
to-day — having  met  but  a  few  Republicans  on  the 
street,  who  were  obliged  to  come  out  and  do  their 
marketing — we  still  hope  for  the  future. 

The  grand  old  Republican  party — 

But  that's  what  we  said  last  week.  It  sounas 
hollow  now  and  meaningless,  somehow,  because 
our  voice  is  a  little  hoarse,  and  we  are  snowed 
under  so  deep  that  it  is  difficult  for  us  to  enunciate. 

Now  about  those  bets.  If  the  parties  to  whom 
we  owe  bets  —  and  we  owe  most  everybody — will 
just  agree  to  take  the  stakes,  and  not  go  into 


BOUGH  ON  OSCAK. 


177 


details ;  not  stop  to  ask  us  about  the  state  of  our 
mind,  and  talk  about  how  it  was  done,  we  don't 
care.  We  don't  wish  to  have  this  thing  explained 
at  all.  We  are  not  of  an  inquiring  turn  of  mind. 
Just  plain  facts  are  good  enough  for  us,  without 
any  harrowing  details.  In  the  meantime  we  are 
going  to  work  to  earn  some  more  money  to  bet  on 
the  next  election.  Judge  Folger,  and  others,  come 
over  and  see  us  when  you  have  time,  and  we  will 
talk  this  matter  over.  Mr.  B.  Butler,  we  wish  we 
had  your  longevity.  With  a  robust  constitution, 
we  find  that  most  any  man  can  wear  out  cruel 
fate  and  get  there  at  last.  We  do  not  feel  so 
angry  as  we  do  grieved  and  surprised.  We  are 
pained  to  see  the  American  people  thus  betray 
our  confidence,  and  throw  a  large  wardrobe  into 
the  hands  of  the  relentless  foe. 


BOUGH  OSCAR 


SOMEBODY  shook  a  log-cabin  bed-quilt  at 
Oscar  Wilde,  when  he  was  in  this  country, 
and  it  knocked  him  so  crazy  for  two  days,  that  a 
man  had  to  lead  him  around  town  by  a  bed-cord 
to  prevent  him  from  butting  his  head  against  a 
lump  of  oat-meal  mush,  and  scattering  his  brains 
all  over  the  Union. 
12 


THE  POSTAL  CAKD. 


NO  one  denies  that  the  postal  card  is  a  great 
thing,  and  yet  it  makes  most  people  mad  to 
get  one  This  is  because  we  naturally  feel  sensi- 
tive about  having  our  correspondence  open  to  the 
eye  of  the  postmaster  and  postal  clerk.  Yet  they 
do  not  read  them.  Postal  employes  hate  a  postal 
card  as  cordially  as  anyone  else.  If  they  were 
banished  and  had  nothing  to  read  but  a  package 
of  postal  cards,  or  a  foreign  book  of  statistics, 
they  would  read  the  statistics.  This  wild  hunger 
for  postal  cards  on  the  part  of  postmasters  is  all  a 
myth.  "When  the  writer  don't  care  who  sees  his 
message,  that  knocks  the  curiosity  out  of  those 
who  handle  those  messages.  A  man  who  would 
read  a  postal  card  without  being  compelled  to  by 
some  stringent  statute,  must  be  a  little  deranged. 
"When  you  receive  one,  you  say,  "  Here's  a  message 
of  so  little  importance  that  the  writer  didn't  care 
who  saw  it.    I  don't  care  much  for  it,  myself." 

Then  you  look  it  over  and  lay  it  away  and 
forget  it.  Do  you  think  that  the  postmaster  is 
going  to  wear  out  his  young  life  in  devouring 
literature  that  the  sendee  don't  feel  proud  of  when 
he  receives  it?    Nay,  nay. 

178 


THE  POSTAL  CARD. 


179 


During  our  official  experience  we  have  been 
placed  where  we  could  have  read  postal  cards  time 
and  again,  and  no  one  but  the  All-seeing  Eye 
would  have  detected  it ;  but  we  have  controlled 
ourself  and  closed  our  eyes  to  the  written  message, 
refusing  to  take  advantage  of  the  confidence 
reposed  in  us  by  our  government,  and  those  who 
thus  trusted  us  with  their  secrets.  All  over  our 
great  land  every  moment  of  the  day  or  night  these 
little  cards  are  being  silently  scattered,  breathing 
loving  words  inscribed  with  a  hard  lead  pencil, 
and  shedding  information  upon  sundered  hearts, 
and  they  are  as  safe  as  though  they  had  never 
been  breathed. 

They  are  safer,  in  most  instances,  because  they 
cannot  be  read  by  anybody  in  the  whole  world. 

That  is  why  it  irritates  us  to  have  some  one  open 
up  a  conversation  by  saying,  "You  remember 
what  that  fellow  wrote  me  from  Cheyenne  on 
that  postal  card  of  the  25th,  and  how  he  rounded 
_  me  up  for  not  sending  him  those  goods?"  Now 
we  can't  keep  all  those  things  in  our  head.  It 
requires  too  much  of  a  strain  to  do  it  on  the  salary 
we  receive.  A  man  with  a  very  large  salary  and 
a  tenacious  memory  might  keep  run  of  the  postal 
correspondence  in  a  small  office,  but  we  cannot  do 
it.  We  are  not  accustomed  to  it,  and  it  rattles  and 
excites  us. 


A  CARD. 


T  HAVE  just  received  a  letter  from  my  friend, 
Bill  Nye,  of  The  Laramie  City  Boomerang, 
wherein  he  informs  me  that  he  is  engaged  to  the 
beautiful  and  accomplished  Lydia  E.  Pinkham,  of 
"  Vegetable  Compound"  fame,  and  that  the  wed- 
ding will  take  place  on  next  Christmas.  To  be 
sure,  I  am  expected  at  the  wedding,  and  I'll  be  on 
hand,  if  I  can  secure  a  clean  shirt  by  that  time, 
and  the  roads  ain't  too  bad.  But  I'm  somewhat 
at  a  loss  what  to  get  as  a  suitable  present,  as  Bill 
informs  me  in  a  postscript  to  his  letter,  that  gifts 
of  bibles,  albums,  nickel-plated  pickle  dishes, 
chromos  with  frames,  and  the  like,  will  not  be  in 
order,  as  it  is  utterly  impossible  to  pawn  articles 
of  this  kind  in  Laramie  City. — The  Bohemian. 

We  are  sorry  that  the  above  letter,  which  we 
dashed  off  in  a  careless  moment,  has  been  placed 
before  the  public,  as  later  developments  have 
entirely  changed  the  aspect  of  the  matter;  the 
engagement  between  ourself  and  Lydia  having 
been  rudely  broken  by  the  young  lady  herself. 
She  has  returned  the  solitaire  filled  ring,  and  hence- 
forth we  can  be  nothing  more  to  each  other  than 
friends.  The  promise  which  bade  fair  to  yield  so 
180 


A  CAKD. 


181 


much  joy  in  the  future  has  been  ruthlessly  yanked 
asunder,  and  two  young  hearts  must  bleed  through 
the  coming  years.  Far  be  it  from  us  to  say  aught 
that  would  reflect  upon  the  record  of  Miss  Pink- 
ham.  It  would  only  imperil  her  chances  in  the 
future,  and  deny  her  the  sweet  satisfaction  of 
gathering  in  another  guileless  sucker  like  us.  The 
truth,  however,  cannot  be  evaded,  that  Lydia  is 
no  longer  young.  She  is  now  in  the  sere  and 
yellow  leaf.  The  gurgle  of  girlhood,  and  the  romp- 
ing careless  grace  of  her  childhood,  are  matters 
of  ancient  history  alone. 

We  might  go  on  and  tell  how  one  thing  brought 
on  another,  till  the  quarrel  occurred,  and  hot 
words  and  an  assault  and  battery  led  to  this 
estrangement,  but  we  will  not  do  it.  It  would  be 
wrong  for  a  great,  strong  man  to  take  advantage 
of  his  strength  and  the  public  press,  to  speak  dis- 
paragingly of  a  young  thing  like  Lyd.  No  matter 
how  unreasonably  she  may  have  treated  us,  we 
are  dumb  and  silent  on  this  point.  Journalists 
who  have  been  invited,  and  have  purchased  costly 
wedding  presents,  may  ship  the  presents  by  ex- 
press, prepaid,  and  we  will  accept  them,  and 
struggle  along  with  our  first  great  heart  trouble, 
while  Lydia  goes  on  in  her  mad  career. 


WHY  WE  ABE  NOT  GAY. 


IT  was  the  policy  of  this  paper,  from  its  incep- 
tion, whatever  that  is,  to  frown  upon  and 
discourage  fraud  wherever  the  latter  has  shown 
its  hideous  front.  In  doing  so,  we  have  simply 
done  our  duty,  and  our  reward  has  been  great, 
partially  in  the  shape  of  money,  and  partially  in 
the  shape  of  conscious  rectitude  and  new  sub- 
scribers. 

We  shall  continue  this  course  until  we  are  able 
to  take  a  trip  to  Europe,  or  until  some  large  man 
.  comes  into  the  office  with  a  masked  battery  and 
blows  us  out  through  the  window  into  the  mellow 
haze  of  an  eternal  summer  time. 

We  have  been  waiting  until  the  present  time 
for  about  100,000  shade  trees  in  this  town  to 
grow,  and  as  they  seem  to  be  a  little  reluctant 
about  doing  so,  and  the  season  being  now  far 
advanced,  we  feel  safe  in  saying  that  they  are 
dead.  They  were  purchased  a  year  ago  of  a 
nursery  that  purported  to  be  O.  K.,  and  up  to  that 
time  no  one  had  ever  breathed  a  word  against  it. 
Now,  however,  unless  those  trees  are  replaced,  we 
shall  be  compelled  to  publish  the  name  of  that 
nursery  in  large,  glaring  type,  to  the  world.  The 

im 


WHY  WE  ARE  NOT  GAY. 


183 


trees  looked  a  little  under  the  weather  when  they 
arrived,  but  we  thought  we  could  bring  them  out 
by  nursing  them.  They  stood  up  in  the  spring 
breeze  like  a  seed  wart,  however,  and  refused  to 
leave.  They  are  still  obstinate.  The  agent  con- 
cluded to  leave,  but  the  trees  did  not.  We  feel 
hurt  about  it,  because  people  come  here  from  a 
distance  and  laugh  at  our  hoe-handle  forest.  They 
speak  jeeringly  of  our  wilderness  of  deceased  elms, 
and  sneer  at  our  defunct  magnolias.  We  hate  to 
cast  a  reflection  on  the  house,  but  we  also  dislike 
to  be  played  for  Chinamen  when  we  are  no  such 
thing. 

We  prefer  to  sit  in  the  shade  of  the  luxuriant 
telegraph  pole,  and  stroll  at  set  of  sun  amid  the 
umbrageous  shadows  of  the  barbed  wire  fence, 
through  which  the  sunlight  glints  and  glitters  to 
and  fro. 

Nothing  saddens  us  like  death  in  any  form,  and 
100,000  dead  trees  scattered  through  the  city, 
sticking  their  limbs  up  into  the  atmosphere  like  a 
variety  actress,  bears  down  upon  us  with  the 
leaden  weight  of  an  ever-present  gloom. 


SCIENTIFIC. 


Hp  HE  Boomerang  reporter,  sent  out  to  find  the 
North  Pole,  eighteen  months  ago,  has  just 
been  heard  from.  An  exploring  party  recently 
found  portions  of  his  remains  in  latitude  4-11-44, 
longitude  sou' west  by  sou'  from  the  pole,  and 
near  the  remains  the  following  fragment  of  a 
diary : 

July  1, 1881. —  Have  just  been  out  searching  for 
a  sunstroke  and  signs  of  a  thaw.  Saw  nothing 
but  ice  floe  and  snow  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach.  Think  we  will  have  snow  this  evening 
unless  the  wind  changes. 

July  2. — Spent  the  forenoon  exploring  to  the 
northwest  for  right  of  way  for  a  new  equatorial 
and  North  Pole  railroad  that  I  think  would  be  of 
immense  value  to  commerce.  The  grade  is  easy, 
and  the  expense  would  be  slight.  Ate  my  last 
dog  to-day.  Had  intended  him  for  the  4th,  but 
got  too  hungry,  and  ate  him  raw  with  vinegar. 
I  wish  I  was  at  home  eating  Boomerang  paste. 

July  3. — We  had  quite  a  frost  last  night,  and 
it  looks  this  morning  as  though  the  corn  and 
small  fruits  must  have  suffered.  It  is  now  two 
weeks  since  the  last  of  the  crew  died  and  left  me 

m 


FOURT.H  OF   JULY  AT  THE  NORTH  POLE. 


SCIENTIFIC. 


187 


alone.  Ate  the  leather  ends  of  my  suspenders 
to-day  for  dinner.  I  did  not  need  the  suspenders, 
anyway,  for  by  tightening  up  my  pants  I  find 
they  will  stay  on  all  right,  and  I  don't  look  for 
any  ladies  to  call,  so  that  even  if  my  pants  came 
off  by  some  oversight  or  other,  nobody  would  be 
shocked. 

july  4. — Saved  up  some  tar  roofing  and  a  bottle 
of  mucilage  for  my  Fourth  of  July  dinner,  and 
gorged  myself  to-day.  The  exercises  were  very 
poorly  attended  and  the  celebration  rather  a  fail- 
ure. It  is  clouding  up  in  the  west,  and  I'm  afraid 
we're  going  to  have  snow.  Seems  to  me  we're 
having  an  all-fired  late  spring  here  this  year. 

July  5.— Didn't  drink  a  drop  yesterday.  It 
was  the  quietest  Fourth  I  ever  put  in.  I  never 
felt  so  little  remorse  over  the  way  I  celebrated  as 
I  do  to-clay.  I  didn't  do  a  thing  yesterday  that  I 
was  ashamed  of  except  to  eat  the  remainder  of  a 
box  of  shoe  blacking  for  supper.  To-day  I  ate 
my  last  boot-heel,  stewed.  Looks  as  though  we 
might  have  a  hard  winter. 

July  6. — Feel  a  little  apprehension  about  some- 
thing to  eat.  My  credit  is  all  right  here,  but 
there  is  no  competition,  and  prices  are  therefore 
very  high.  Ice,  however,  is  still  firm.  This 
would  be  a  good  ice-cream  country  if  there  were 
any  demand,  but  the  country  is  so  sparsely  set- 


188 


BALED  HAY. 


tied  that  a  man  feels  as  lonesome  here  as  a  green- 
backer  at  a  presidential  election.  Ate  a  pound  of 
cotton  waste  soaked  in  machine  oil,  to-day. 
There  is  nothing  left  for  to-morrow  but  ice-water 
and  an  old  pocket-book  for  dinner.  Looks  as 
though  we  might  have  snow. 

July  7. — This  is  a  good,  cool  place  to  spend  the 
summer  if  provisions  were  more  plenty.  I  am 
wearing  a  seal-skin  undershirt,  with  three  woolen 
over  shirts  and  two  bear-skin  vests,  to-day,  and 
when  the  dew  begins  to  fall,  I  have  to  put  on  my 
buff  alo  ulster  to  keep  off  the  night  air.  I  wish  I 
was  home.  It  seems  pretty  lonesome  here  since 
the  other  boys  died.  I  do  not  know  what  I  will 
get  for  dinner  to-morrow,  unless  the  neighbors 
bring  in  something.  A  big  bear  is  coming  down 
the  hatchway,  as  I  write.  I  wish  I  could  eat  him. 
It  would  be  the  first  square  meal  for  two  months. 
It  is,  however,  a  little  mixed  whether  I  will  eat 
him  or  he  eat  me.  It  will  be  a  cold  day  for  me 
if  he  " 

*  -3*  -Sf  «  #  * 

Here  the  diary  breaks  off  abruptly,  and  from 
the  chewed  up  appearance  of  the  book,  we  are 
led  to  entertain  a  horrible  fear  as  to  his  safety. 


THE  REVELATION  RACKET  IN 
UTAH. 


OTTK  esteemed  and  extremely  connubial  con- 
temporary, the  Deseret  Nevis,  says  in  a  recent 
editorial : 

"The  Latter  day  Saints  will  rejoice  to  learn 
that  the  vacancies  which  have  existed  in  the 
quorums  of  the  twelve  apostles  and  the  first  seven 
presidents  of  seventies  are  now  filled.  During  the 
conference  recently  held,  Elder  Abram  IT.  Cannon 
was  unanimously  chosen  to  be  one  of  the  first 
seven  presidents  of  seventies,  and  he  was  ordained 
to  that  office  on  Monday,  October  9th.  Subse- 
quently, the  Lord,  by  revelation  through  His 
servant,  Prest.  John  Taylor,  designated  by  name, 
Brothers  George  Teasdale  and  Heber  J.  Grant,  to 
be  ordained  to  the  apostleship,  and  Brother  Sey- 
mour B.  Young  to  fill  the  remaining  vacancy  in 
the  presidency  of  the  seventies.  These  brethren 
were  ordained  on  Monday,  October  16th,  the  two 
apostles,  under  the  hands  of  the  first  presidency 
and  twelve,  and  the  other  under  the  hands  of  the 
twelve  and  the  presidency  of  the  seventies." 

Now,  that's  a  convenient  system  of  politics  and 
civil  service.  When  there  is  a  vacancy,  the  pres- 
189 


190 


BALED  HAY. 


ident,  John  Taylor,  goes  into  his  closet  and  has  a 
revelation  which  settles  it  all  right.  If  the  man 
appointed  vicariously  by  the  Lord  is  not  in  every 
way  satisfactory,  he  may  be  discharged  by  the 
same  process.  Instead,  therefore,  of  being  required 
to  rally  a  large  force  of  his  friends  to  aid  him  in 
getting  an  appointment,  the  aspirant  arranges 
solely  with  the  party  who  runs  the  revelation 
business.  It  will  be  seen  at  a  glance,  therefore, 
that  the  man  who  can  get  the  job  of  revelating  in 
Zion,  has  it  pretty  much  his  own  way.  T\re  would 
not  care  who  made  the  laws  of  Utah  if  we  <?ould 
do  its  revelating  at  so  much  per  revelate. 

Think  of  the  pow  er  it  gives  a  man  in  a  com- 
munity of  blind  believers.  Imagine,  if  you  please, 
the  glorious  possibilities  in  store  for  the  man  who 
can  successfully  reveal  the  word  of  the  Lord  in  an 
easy,  extemporaneous  manner  on  five  minutes 
notice. 

This  prerogative  does  not  confine  itself  to 
politics  alone.  The  impromptu  revelator  of  the 
Jordan  has  revelations  when  he  wants  to  .evade 
the  payment  of  a  bill.  He  gets  a  divine  order 
also  if  he  desires  to  marry  a  beautiful  maid  or  seal 
the  new  school  ma'am  to  himself.  He  has  a 
leverage  which  he  can  bring  to  bear  upon  the 
people  of  his  diocese  at  all  times,  even  more 
potent  than  the  press,  and  it  does  not  possess  the 


THE  REVELATION  RACKET  IN  UTAH. 


drawbacks  that  a  newspaper  does.  You  can  run 
an  aggressive  paper  if  you  want  to  in  this  coun- 
try, and  up  to  the  time  of  the  funeral  you  have  a 
pretty  active  and  enjoyable  time,  but  after  the 
grave  has  been  filled  up  with  the  clods  of  the 
valley  and  your  widow  has  drawn  her  insurance, 
you  naturally  ask,  "What  is  the  advantage  to  be 
gained  by  this  fearless  style  of  journalism?" 

Still,  even  the  inspired  racket  has  its  draw- 
backs. Last  year,  a  little  incident  occurred  in  a 
Mormon  family  down  in  southern  Utah,  which 
weighed  about  nine  pounds,  and  when  the  ex 
officio  husband,  who  had  been  absent  two  years, 
returned,  he  acted  kind  of  wild  and  surprised, 
somehow,  and  as  he  went  through  the  .  daily 
round  of  his  work  he  could  be  seen  counting  his 
fingers  back  and  forth  and  looking  at  the  almanac, 
and  adding  up  little  amounts  on  the  side  of  the 
barn  with  a  piece  of  red  chalk. 

Finally,  one  of  the  inspired  mob  of  that  part  of 
the  vineyard  thought  it  was  about  time  to  get  a 
revelation  and  go  down  there,  so  he  did  so.  He 
sailed  up  to  the  de  facto  husband  and  quasi  parent 
and  solemnly  straightened  up  some  little  irreg- 
ularities as  to  dates,  but  the  revelation  was 
received  with  disdain,  and  the  revelator  was  sent 
home  in  an  old  ore  sack  and  buried  in  a  peach- 
basket  - 


192 


BALED  HAY. 


Sometimes  there  is,  even  in  Utah,  a  manifesta- 
tion of  such  irreverence  and  open  hostility  to  the 
church  that  it  makes  us  shudder. 


E  have  a  scheme  on  hand  which  we  believe 


*  *  will  be  even  more  remunerative  than  the 
newspaper  business,  if  successfully  carried  out.  It 
is  to  construct  a  national  remedy  and  joy-to-the- 
world  tonic,  composed  of  the  carefully  expressed 
juice  of  our  Rocky  mountain  tropical  herb,  known 
as  the  sage  brush.  Sage  brush  is  known  to  pos- 
sess wonderful  medicinal  properties.  It  is  bitter 
enough  to  act  as  a  tonic  and  to  convey  the  idea  of 
great  strength.  Our  idea  would  be  to  have  our 
portrait  on  each  bottle,  to  attract  attention  and 
aid  in  effecting  a  cure.  We  have  noticed  that  the 
homeliest  men  succeed  best  as  patent  medicine 
inventors,  and  this  would  be  right  in  our  hand. 

The  tonic  could  be  erected  at  a  cost  of  three 
cents  per  bottle,  delivered  on  the  cars  here,  and 
after  we  got  fairly  to  going  we  might  probably 
reduce  even  that  price.  At  one  dollar  per  bottle, 
we  could  realize  a  living  profit,  and  still  do  man- 
kind a  favor  and  turn  loose  a  boon  to  suffering 
humanity.    It  will  make  the  hair  grow,  as  every- 


SAGE  BEUSH  TOIIO. 


SAGE  BRUSH  TONIC.  193 

one  knows,  and  it  will  stir  up  a  torpid  liver  equally 
well.  It  just  loves  to  get  after  anything  that  is 
dormant.  It  might  even  help  the  Democratic 
party,  if  it  had  a  chance. 

Our  plan  would  be  to  advertise  liberally,  for 
we  know  the  advantages  of  judicious  advertising. 
Only  last  week  a  man  on  South  C  street  had  three 
cows  to  sell,  which  fact  he  set  forth  in  this  paper 
at  the  usual  rates.  Before  he  went  to  bed  that 
evening  the  cows  were  sold  and  people  were  filing 
in  the  front  gate  like  a  row  of  men  at  the  general 
delivery  of  the  postoffice.  The  next  morning  a 
large  mob  of  people  was  found  camped  out  in 
front  of  the  house,  and  the  railroad  was  giving 
excursion  rates  to  those  who  wanted  to  come  in 
from  the  country  to  buy  these  cows  that  had  been 
sold  the  day  before. 

We  just  quote  this  to  show  how  advertising 
stirs  the  mighty  deep  and  wakes  people  up.  We 
would  make  propositions  to  our  brethren  of  the 
press  by  which  they  could  make  some  money  out 
of  the  ad,  too,  instead  of  telling  them  to  put  it  in 
the  middle  of  the  telegraph  page,  surrounded  by 
pure  reading  matter,  daily  and  weekly  till  forbid 
and  pay  when  we  get  ready. 

Publishers  will  find  that  we  are  not  that  kind 
of  people.  We  shall  aim  to  do  the  square  thing, 
and  will  throw  in  an  electrotype,  showing  us 
13 


194 


BALED  HAY. 


just  discovering  the  sage  brush,  and  exclaiming 
"  Eureka,"  while  we  prance  around  like  a  Zulu  on 
the  war  path.  Underneath  this  we  will  write, 
"  Yours  for  Health,"  or  words  to  that  effect,  and 
everything  will  be  pleasant  and  nice. 

The  Sage  Brush  Tonic  will  be  made  of  two 
grades,  one  will  be  for  prohibition  states  and  the 
other  for  states  where  prohibition  is  not  in  gen- 
eral use.  The  prohibition  tonic  will  contain,  in 
addition  to  the  sage  brush,  a  small  amount  of 
tansy  and  Jamaica  ginger,  to  give  it  a  bead  and 
prevent  it  from  fermenting.  A  trial  bottle  will 
be  sent  to  subscribers  of  this  paper,  also  a  fitting 
little  poem  to  be  read  at  the  funeral.  We  will 
also  publish  death  notice  of  those  using  the  tonic, 
at  one-half  rates. 


LAME  FKOM  HIS  BEKTBL 


A SAD-EYED  man,  the  other  night,  fell  out  of 
his  bed  into  the  aisle  of  a  Pullman  car  and 
skinned  his  knee.  He  now  claims  that  he  was 
lame  from  his  berth.  When  he  passes  Carbon  he 
will  be  hung  by  request. 


THE  PUBLIC  PKINTEK. 


"YTERY  few  of  the  great  mass  of  humanity 
V  know  who  makes  the  beautiful  public  docu- 
ment, with  its  plain,  black  binding  and  wealth  of 
statistics.  Few  stop  to  think  that  hidden  away 
from  the  great  work-a-day  world,  with  eyelids 
heavy  and  red,  and  with  finger-nails  black  with 
antimony,  toiling  on  at  his  case  hour  after  hour, 
the  public  printer,  during  the  sessions  of  Congress, 
is  setting  up  the  thrilling  chapters  of  the  Con- 
gressional Eecord,  and  between  times  yanking 
the  Washington  press  backward  and  forward,  with 
his  suspenders  hanging  down,  as  he  prints  this 
beautiful  sea-side  library  of  song. 

We  are  too  prone  to  read  that  which  gives  us 
pleasure  without  thought  of  the  labor  necessary 
to  its  creation.  We  glide  gaily  through  the  Con- 
gressional Record,  pleased  with  its  more  attractive 
features,  viz :  its  ayes  and  noes — little  recking  that 
Sterling  P.  Rounds,  the  public  printer,  stands  in 
the  subdued  gaslight  with  his  stick  half  full,  try- 
ing to  decipher  the  manuscript  of  some  reticent 
representative,  whose  speech  was  yesterday  deliv- 
ered to  the  janitor  as  he  polished  the  porcelain 
cuspidor  of  Congress. 

195 


196 


BALED  HAY. 


This  is  a  day  and  age  of  the  world  when  men 
take  that  which  comes  to  them,  and  do  not  stop  to 
investigate  the  pain  and  toil  it  costs.  They  never 
inquire  into  the  mystery  of  manufacture,  or  try 
to  learn  the  details  of  its  construction.  Most  of 
our  libraries  are  replete  with  books  which  we  have 
received  at  the  hands  of  a  generous  government, 
and  yet  we  treat  those  volumes  with  scorn  and 
contumely.  "We  jeer  at  the  footsore  bugologist 
who  has  chased  the  large,  green  worm  from  tree  to 
tree,  in  order  that  we  may  be  wise.  We  speak 
sneeringly  of  the  man  who  stuffs  the  woodtick, 
and  paints  the  gaudy  wings  of  the  squash-bug  that 
we  may  know  how  often  she  orates. 

Year  after  year  the  entomologist  treads  the 
same  weaiy  road  with  his  bait-box  tied  to  his 
waist,  wooing  to  his  laboratory  the  army- worm 
and  the  sheep-scab  larvae  in  order  that  we,  poor 
particles  on  the  surface  of  the  great  earth,  may 
know  how  these  minute  creatures  rise,  flourish  and 
decay. 

Then  the  public  printer  throws  in  his  case,  rubs 
his  finger  and  thumb  over  a  lump  of  alum,  takes 
a  chew  of  tobacco,  and  puts  in  type  these  words 
of  wisdom  from  the  lips  of  gray-bearded  savants, 
that  knowledge  may  be  scattered  over  the  broad 
republic.  Patiently  he  goes  on  with  the  click  of 
type,  anon  in  an  absorbed  way,  while  we,  gay, 


THE  PUBLIC  PRINTER. 


197 


thoughtless  mortals,  wear  out  the  long  summer 
day  at  a  basket  picnic,  with  deft  fingers  selecting 
the  large  red  ant  from  our  cold  ham. 

Thus  these  books  are  made  which  come  to  us 
wrapped  in  manilla  and  franked  by  the  man  we 
voted  for  last  fall.  Beautiful  lithographs,  illus- 
trating the  different  stages  of  hog  cholera,  deck 
their  pages.  Eich  oil  paintings  of  gaudy  tobacco 
worms  chase  each  other  from  preface  to  errata. 
Magnificent  chromos  of  the  foot  and  mouth  dis- 
ease appeal  to  us  from  page  after  page,  and  statis- 
tics boil  out  between  them,  showing  what  per 
cent  of  invalid  or  convalescent  animals  was  sent 
abroad,  and  what  per  cent  was  worked  into  oleo- 
margarine and  pressed  corn  beef. 

And  what  becomes  of  all  this  wealth  of  infor- 
mation—  this  mammoth  aggregation  of  costly 
knowledge  ? 

Cast  ruthlessly  away  by  a  trifling,  shallow, 
frivolous  and  freckle-minded  race ! 

It  is  no  more  than  right  that  Sterling  P.  Bounds 
should  know  this.  How  it  will  gall  his  proud 
heart  to  know  how  his  beautiful  books,  and  his 
chatty  and  spicy  Congressional  Record  are  treated 
by  a  jeering,  heartless  throng!  Do  you  suppose 
that  I  would  perspire  over  doubtful  copy  night 
after  night,  and  then  tread  a  job  printing  press 
all  the  next  day  printing  books  at  which  the  blood- 


198 


BALED  HAY. 


less,  soulless  public  sneered,  and  the  broad-browed 
talent  of  a  cruel  generation  spit  upon?  Not 
exactly. 

I  have  a  moderate  amount  of  patience  and  self- 
control,  but  I  am  free  to  say  right  here  before  the 
world,  that  if  I  had  been  in  Mr.  Rounds'  place, 
and  had  at  great  cost  erected  a  scientific  work 
upon  "The  Rise  and  Fall  of  Botts  in  America," 
and  a  flippant  nation  of  scoffers  had  utilized  that 
volume  to  press  autumn  leaves  and  scraggly  ferns 
in,  1  wrould  rise  in  my  proud  might  and  mash  the 
forms  with  a  mallet.  I  would  jerk  the  lever  of 
the  "Washington  press  into  the  middle  of  the  efful- 
gent hence.  I  would  kick  over  itiy  case,  wipe  the 
roller  on  the  frescoed  walls,  and  feed  my  statistics 
to  the  hungry  flames. 

No  publisher  has  ever  been  treated  more  shab- 
bily ;  no  compositor  has,  in  the  history  of  litera- 
ture, been  more  rudely  disregarded  and  derided. 

Think  of  this,  dear  reader,  when  you  look  care- 
lessly over  the  brief  but  wonderful  career  of  the 
hop-louse,  or  with  apparent  ennui  dawdle  through 
the  treatise  on  colic  among  silk-worms,  and  facial 
neuralgia  among  fowls. 

This  will  not  only  please  Mr.  Rounds,  the  young 
and  struggling  compositor,  but  it  will  gratify  and 
encourage  all  the  friends  of  American  progress  and 
the  lovers  of  learning  throughout  our  whole  land. 


A  EEPEODUOTIYE  COMET. 


A 1ST  exchange  remarks :  "  The  present  comet  in 
-  the  eastern  sky,  which  can  be  distinctly  seen 
by  everyone  at  early  morning,  is  certainly  the 
most  remarkable  one  of  the  modern  comets.  Pro- 
fessor Lewis  Swift,  director  of  the  Warner  observ- 
atory, Eochester,  New  York,  states  that  the  comet 
grazed  the  sun  so  closely  as  to  cause  great  disturb- 
ance, so  much  so,  that  it  has  divided  into  no  less 
than  eight  separate  parts,  all  of  which  can  be 
distinctly  seen  by  a  good  telescope.  There  is 
only  one  other  instance  on  record,  where  a  comet 
has  divided,  that  one  being  Biella's  comet  of  1846, 
which  separated  into  two  parts.  Applications 
have  been  made  to  Mr.  H.  H.  Warner,  by  parties 
who  have  noticed  these  cometary  offshoots,  claim- 
ing the  $200  prize  for  each  one  of  them.  Whether 
the  great  comet  will  continue  to  produce  a  brood 
of  smaller  comets  remains  to  be  seen." 

It  is  certainly  to  be  hoped  that  it  will  not.  If 
the  comet  is  going  to  multiply  and  replenish  the 
earth,  the  average  inhabitant  had  better  proceed 
in  the  direction  of  the  tall  timber. 

It  excites  and  rattles  us  a  good  deal  now  to  look 
out  for  what  comets  we  have  on  hand ;  but  that  is 
199 


200 


BALED  HAY. 


mild,  compared  with  what  we  will  experience  if 
the  heavens  are  to  be  filled  every  spring  with  new 
laid  comets,  and  comets  that  haven't  got  their  eyes 
open  yet.  Our  astronomers  are  able  to  figure  on 
the  old  parent  comets,  and  they  know  when  to 
look  for  them,  too ;  but  if  twins  are  to  burst  upon 
our  vision  occasionally,  and  little  bob-tail  orphan 
comets  are  to  float  around  through  space,  we  will 
have  to  kind  of  get  up  and  seek  out  another  solar 
system,  where  we  will  be  safe  from  this  comet 
foundling  asylum. 

Instead  of  the  calm  sky  of  night,  flooded  with 
the  glorious  effulgence  of  the  silvery  moon,  sur- 
rounded by  the  twinkling  stars,  the  coming  sky 
will  be  one  grand  Fourth  of  July  exhibit  of  fire- 
.  works,  with  a  thousand  little  disobedient  comets 
coming  from  the  four  corners  of  heaven  in  search 
of  the  milky  way. 

Possibly  science  may  be  wrong.  We  have  known 
science  to  make  bad  little  breaks  of  that  kind, 
and  when  it  advertised  a  particular  show  to  come 
off,  it  was  delayed  by  a  wreck  on  the  main  track, 
or  something  of  that  kind,  so  that  people  were 
disappointed.  Let  us  hope  that  this  is  the  case 
now,  and  that  the  comets  now  loafing  around 
through  space  with  their  coat  tails  on  fire  will  not 
become  parents.    It  would  be  scandalous. 


A  LITTLE  VAGUE. 


A TALL,  pleasant-looking  gentleman,  with 
quick,  restless  eyes,  and  the'  air  of  a  man 
who  had  been  in  a  newspaper  office  before, 
dropped  into  The  Boomerang  science  department 
yesterday,  and  asked  the  pale,  scholarly  blossom, 
who  sat  writing  an  epic  on  the  alarming  preva- 
lence of  pip  and  its  future  as  a  national  evil,  if  he 
could  be  permitted  to  read  the  .Deseret  News. 

The  scientist  said  certainly,  and  after  a  long 
and  weary  tussle  got  the  Mormon  placque  out  of 
the  ruins. 

"I  used  to  be  foreman  on  the  Deseret  News ," 
said  the  gentleman  with  the  penetrating  eye ;  "  I 
worked  on  the  News  two  years,  and  had  a  case  on 
the  Tribune.  I've  been  foreman  of  thirty-seven 
papers  during  my  life,  but  my  most  unfortunate 
experience  was  on  the  Deseret  News.  I  wanted 
the  paper  just  now  to  see  if  they  were  still  running 
an  ad.  that  I  had  some  trouble  with  when  I  was 
there. 

u  It  was  a  contract  we  had  with  Dr.  Balshazzer 
to  advertise  his  Blue  Eyed  Forget-me  Not  Per- 
fume, Dr.  Balshazzer's  Eecl  Tar  Worm  Buster,  and 
Dr.  Balshazzer's  Baled  Brain  Food  and  Tolurock- 
201 


202 


BALED  HAY. 


andryeandcodliveroil.  The  Blue  Eyed  Forget-me 
Not  Perfume  was  to  go  solid  in  long  primer,  fol- 
lowing pure  reading  matter  eod  in  daily  and  eowtf 
weekly.  The  Bed  Tar  Worm  Buster  was  to  go 
in  nonpareil  leaded,  192I.T.thFth98weow3mo,  and 
repeat ;  and  the  Baled  Brain  Food  and  Tolurock- 
andryecodliveroil  was  a  six-inch  electrotype  to  go 
in  on  third  page,  following  pure  original  humor- 
ous matter,  with  six  full  head  lines  d&weod  oet9tf , 
set  in  reading  type  similar  to  copy ;  these  to  be 
inserted  between  pure  religious  news,  with  no 
other  advertising  within  four  miles  of  the  electro, 
or  the  reading  notices. 

"  At  the  same  time  we  were  running  old  Mon- 
keywrench's  Kidney  Scraper  on  the  same  kind 
of  a  contract.  The  business  manager  did  not 
remember  this  when  we  took  the  contract,  so  that 
as  soon  as  we  began  to  run  the  two  there  was  a 
collision  between  the  Tolurockandryeandcodliver- 
oil  and  the  Kidney  Scraper  right  off.  I  spoke  to 
the  business  manager  about  it,  and  he  was  puzzled. 
He  didn't  exactly  know  what  it  was  best  to  do 
under  the  circumstances,  and  he  hated  to  lose  old 
Balshazzer's  whole  trade,  for  he  wouldn't  run  any 
of  his  ads  unless  he  would  take  them  all  according 
to  his  contract. 

"We  tried  to  get  him  to  let  us  run  the  Blue- 
Eyed  Forget-me  Not  Perfume,  lapr9d&wly  deod 


A  LITTLE  VAGUE. 


203 


&wly  10-2t-eowtf ;  the  Eed  Tar  Worm  Buster, 
dol3  4t  da22tf  aprl5-ly  dolStf,  and  the  Bram 
Food  and  Tolurockandryecodliveroil  mchl8*ly 
jun4dtf&dangl8@gft*&Sylds30tf&rSvpeod$,  but 

he  wouldn't  do  it. 

"I  displayed  his  ad.  top  of  column  adjoining 
humorous  column  with  three  line  readers  and 
astonishers  without  advertising  marks  or  signs 
according  to  copy  and  instructions  to  foreman,  all 
omissions  or  errors  to  be  subject  to  fine  and  im- 
prisonment. They  were  to  go  pdq  $eoy*Octp&s* 
and  they  were  to  be  double  leaded  and  headed 
with  italic  caps.  Still  I  said  it  had  been  some 
time  since  I  saw  the  contract  and  I  had  been  suf- 
fering with  brain  fever  six  months  in  jail  and 
possibly  my  memory  might  be  defective.  I  would 
go  over  it  again  and  see  if  I  was  right. 

"  The  electrophones  were  to  be  blown  in  the 
bottle  and  the  readers  were  to  be  set  in  lower  case 
slugs  with  guarantee  of  good  faith  and  Bough  on 
Bats  would  not  die  in  the  house.  Use  Finkham's 
Sozodont  for  itching,  freckles,  bunions  and  croup. 
It  saved  my  life.  My  good  woman,  why  are  you 
bilious  with  em  quads  in  solid  minion.  Eureka 
Jumbo  Baking  Bowder  will  not  crack  or  fade  in 
any  climate  sent  on  three  months  trial  in  leaded 
brevier  quoins  and  all  wool  column  rules  warranted 
to  cure  rheumatism  and  army  worms  or  money 


204 


BALED  HAY, 


refunded.  To  be  adjoining  selected  miscellany  or 
fancy  brass  dashes  marked  eodsyld&w*!*?— — — " 
At  this  moment  a  dark  browed  man  came  in 
and  told  us  that  the  young  man  was  his  charge 
and  on  his  way  to  Mount  Pleasant  asylum  for 
the  insane  and  that  we  would  have  to  excuse  the 
intrusion.  After  subscribing  for  the  paper  and 
asking  us  if  we  had  heard  from  Ohio,  he  went 
away. 

The  scientist  said  afterward  that  he  found  it 
difficult  to  follow  the  young  man  in  some  of  his 
statements  and  that  he  was  just  going  to  ask  him 
to  go  over  that  again  and  say  it  slower,  when  the 
Mount  Pleasant  man  came  in  and  interrupted  the 
flow  of  conversation. 


SAD  DESTEUOTIOK". 


HHHEKE  came  very  near  being  a  holocaust  in 
-1-  this  office  on  Monday.  An  absent-minded 
candidate  for  the  legislature  lit  his  cigar  and 
gently  threw  the  match  in  the  waste  basket. 
Shortly  after  that  we  felt  a  grateful  warmth  steal- 
ing up  our  back  and  melting  the  rubber  in  our 
suspenders.  The  fire  was  promptly  put  under 
control  by  our  editorial  fire  department,  but  the 
basket  is  no  longer  fit  to  hold  a  large  word. 


THE  IMMEDIATE  EEYOLYEE. 


YOMINGr  has  recently  been  a  great  suf- 


V  V  f erer,  mainly  through  the  carrying  of 
revolvers  in  the  caboose  of  the  overalls.  There  is 
no  more  need  of  carrying  a  revolver  in  Wyoming 
than  there  is  of  carrying  an  upright  piano  in  the 
coat  tail  pocket.  Those  who  carry  revolvers 
generally  die  by  the  revolver,  and  he  who 
agitates  the  six-shooter,  by  the  six-shooter  shall 
his  blood  be  shed.  When  a  man  carries  a  gun  he 
does  so  because  he  has  said  or  done  something  for 
which  he  expects  to  be  attacked,  so  it  is  safe  to 
say  that  when  a  man  goes  about  our  peaceful 
streets,  loaded,  he  has  been  doing  some  little  trick 
or  other,  and  has  in  advance  prepared  himself  for 
a  Smith-&-Wesson  matinee.  The  other  class  of 
men  who  suffer  from  the  revolver  comprises  the 
white-livered  and  effeminate  parties  who  ought  to 
be  arrested  for  wearing  men's  clothes,  and  who 
never  shoot  anybody  except  by  accident.  Fortu- 
nately they  sometimes  shoot  themselves,  and  then 
the  fool-killer  puts  his  coat  on  and  rests  half  an 
hour.  We  have  been  writing  these  things  and 
obituaries  alternately  for  several  years,  and  yet 
there  is  no  falling  off  in  the  mortality.  For 


205 


206 


BALED  HAY. 


avery  man  who  is  righteously  slain,  there  are 
about  a  million  law-abiding  men,  women  and 
children  murdered.  Eternity's  parquette  is  filled 
with  people  who  got  there  by  the  self-cocking 
revolver  route. 

A  man  works  twenty  years  to  become  known 
as  a  scholar,  a  newspaper  man  and  a  gentleman, 
while  the  illiterate  murderer  springs  into  imme- 
diate notoriety  in  a  day,  and  the  widow  of  his 
victim  cannot  even  get  her  life  insurance.  These 
things  are  what  make  people  misanthropic  and 
tenacious  of  their  belief  in  a  hell. 

If  revolvers  could  not  be  sold  for  less  than  $500 
a  piece,  with  a  guarantee  on  the  part  of  the 
vendee,  signed  by  good  sureties,  that  he  would 
support  the  widows  and  orphans,  you  would  see 
more  longevity  lying  around  loose,  and  western 
cemeteries  would  cease  to  roll  up  such  mighty 
majorities. 


THE  SECRET  OF  HEALTH. 


"TTEALTH  journals  are  now  asserting,  that  to 
*  ■  maintain  a  sound  constitution  you  should 
lie  only  on  the  right  side.  The  health  journals 
may  mean  well  enough  ;  but  what  are  you  going 
to  do  if  you  are  editing  a  Democratic  paper  ? 


HOUSEHOLD  KECIPES. 


TO  remove  oils,  varnishes,  resins,  tar,  oyster 
soup,  currant  jelly,  and  other  selections  from 
the  bill  of  fare,  use  benzine,  soap  and  chloroform 
cautiously  with  whitewash  brush  and  garden  hose. 
Then  hang  on  wood  pile  to  remove  the  pungent 
effluvia  of  the  benzine. 

To  clean  ceilings  that  have  been  smoked  by 
kerosene  lamps,  or  the  fragrance  from  fried  salt 
pork,  remove  the  ceiling,  wash  thoroughly  with 
borax,  turpentine  and  rain  water,  then  hang  on 
the  clothes  line  to  dry.  Afterward  pulverize  and 
spread  over  the  pie  plant  bed  for  spring  wear. 

To  remove  starch  and  roughness  from  flatirons, 
hold  the  iron  on  a  large  grindstone  for  twenty 
minutes  or  so,  then  wipe  off  carefully  with  a  rag. 
To  make  this  effective,  the  grindstone  should  be 
in  motion  while  the  iron  is  applied.  Should  the 
iron  still  stick  to  the  goods  when  in  use,  spit  on  it. 

To  soften  water  for  household  purposes,  put  in 
an  ounce  of  quicklime  in  a  certain  quantity  of 
water.  If  it  is  not  sufficient,  use  less  water  or 
more  quicklime.  Should  the  immediate  lime  con- 
tinue to  remain  deliberate,  lay  the  water  down 
on  a  stone  and  pound  it  with  a  base  ball  club. 
207 


208 


BALED  HAY. 


To  give  relief  to  a  burn,  apply  the  white  of  an 
egg.  The  yolk  of  the  egg  may  be  eaten  or  placed 
on  the  shirt  bosom,  according  to  the  taste  of  the 
person.  If  the  burn  should  occur  on  a  lady,  she 
may  omit  the  last  instruction. 

To  wash  black  silk  stockings,  prepare  a  tub  of 
lather,  composed  of  tepid  rain  water  and  white 
soap,  with  a  little  ammonia.  Then  stand  in  the 
tub  till  dinner  is  ready.  Eoll  in  a  cloth  to  dry. 
Do  not  wring,  but  press  the  water  out.  This  will 
necessitate  the  removal  of  the  stockings. 

If  your  hands  are  badly  chapped,  wet  them  in 
warm  water,  rub  them  all  over  with  Indian  meal, 
then  put  on  a  coat  of  glycerine  and  keep  them  in 
your  pockets  for  ten  days.  If  you  have  no  pockets 
convenient,  insert  them  in  the  pocket  of  a  friend. 

An  excellent  liniment  for  toothache  or  neural- 
gia, is  made  of  sassafras,  oil  of  organum  and  a 
half  ounce  of  tincture  of  capsicum,  with  half  a 
pint  of  alcohol.  Soak  nine  yards  of  red  flannel 
in  this  mixture,  wrap  it  around  the  head  and  then 
insert  the  head  in  a  haystack  till  death  comes  to 
your  relief. 

To  remove  scars  or  scratches  from  the  limbs  of 
a  piano,  bathe  the  limb  in  a  solution  of  tepid  water 
and  tincture  of  sweet  oil.  Then  apply  a  strip  of 
court  plaster,  and  put  the  piano  out  on  the  lawn 
for  the  children  to  play  horse  with. 


WHAT  IS  LITERATURE? 


209 


Woolen  goods  may  be  nicely  washed  if  you  put 
half  an  ox  gall  into  two  gallons  of  tepid  water. 
It  might  be  well  to  put  the  goods  in  the  water 
also.  If  the  mixture  is  not  strong  enough,  put  in 
another  ox  galU  Should  this  fail  to  do  the  work, 
put  in  the  entire  ox,  reserving  the  tail  for  soup. 
The  ox  gall  is  comparatively  useless  for  soup,  and 
should  not  be  preserved  as  an  article  of  diet. 


WHAT  IS  LITEEATUEE? 


A SQUASH-NOSED  scientist  from  away  up 
the  creek,  asks,  "What  is  literature!"  Oast 
your  eye  over  these  logic-imbued  columns,  you 
sun-dried  savant  from  the  remote  precincts. 
Drink  at  the  never-failing  Boomerang  springs  of 
forgotten  lore,  you  dropsical  wart  of  a  false  and 
erroneous  civilization.  Read  our  "Address  to  the 
Duke  of  Stinking  Water,"  or  the  "  Ode  to  the 
Busted  Snoot  of  a  Shattered  Venus  DeMilo,"  if 
you  want  to  fill  up  your  thirsty  soul  with  high- 
priced  literature.  Don't  go  around  hungering  for 
literary  pie  while  your  eyes  are  closed  and  your 
capacious  ears  are  filled  with  bales  of  hay. 


14 


THE  PREVIOUS  HOTEL. 


DOWN  at  Nathrop,  Colorado,  there  is  a  large, 
new,  and  fine  hotel,  where  io  guest  ever  ate 
or  slept.  It  stands  there  near  the  South  Park 
track  like  the  ghost  of  some  nice,  clean  country 
inn.  The  reader  will  naturally  ask  if  the  house  is 
haunted,  that  no  one  stops  at  the  very  attractive 
hotel  in  a  country  where  good  hotels  are  rare. 
No,  it  is  not  that.  It  is  not  haunted  so  much  as 
it  would  like  to  be.  Though  it  is  a  fine  hotel, 
there  is  no  town  nearer  it  than  Buena  Vista,  and 
no  one  is  going  to  do  business  at  Buena  Vista 
and  go  up  to  Nathrop  on  a  hand-car  for  his  meals. 

It  is  a  case  where  a  smart  aleck  of  a  man  built 
a  hotel,  and  asked  his  fellow  citizens  to  come  and 
form  a  town  around  him  and  make  him  rich.  Mr. 
Nathrop  was  rather  an  impulsive  man,  and  one 
day  he  said  something  that  reflected  on  another 
impulsive  man,  and  when  people  came  and  looked 
f or  Nathrop,  they  found  that  his  body  was  tangled 
up  in  the  sage  brush,  and  his  soul  was  marching 
on. 

The  hotel  was  just  completed,  and  the  ladders, 
and  the  handsome  lime  barrels,  and  hods,  and  old 
nail  kegs,  and  fragments  of  laths,  and  pieces  of 
210 


THE  PREVIOUS  HOTEL. 


211 


bricks,  and  scaffolds,  and  all  those  things  that  go 
to  make  life  desirable,  are  still  there  adorning  the 
hotel  and  the  front  yard;  but  there  is  no  hand- 
some man  with  a  waxed  mustache  inside  at  the 
desk,  shaking  his  head  sadly  when  he  is  asked  for 
a  room,  and  looking  at  you  with  that  high-born 
pity  and  contempt  for  your  pleading,  that  the 
hotel  clerk — heir  apparent  to  the  universe — always 
keeps  for  those  who  go  to  him  with  humility. 

There  is  no  Senegambian,  with  a  whisk  broom, 
waiting  to  brush  your  clothes  off  your  back,  and 
leave  you  arrayed  in  a  birth-mark  and  the  ear- 
ache, at  twenty-five  cents  per  brush.  There  is  no 
young,  fair  masher,  strutting  up  and  dowrn  the 
piazza,  trying  to  look  brainy  and  capable  of  a 
thought.  It  is  only  a  hollow  mockery,  for  the 
chamber-maid  with  the  large  slop-pail  does  not 
come  at  daylight  to  pound  on  your  door,  and  try 
to  get  in  and  fix  up  your  room,  and  wake  you  up, 
and  frighten  you  to  dea/th  with  her  shocking  chaos 
of  wart-environed  and  freckle-frescoed  beauty. 

There  the  new  hotel  will,  no  doubt,  stand  for 
ages,  while  a  little  way  off,  in  his  quiet  grave,  the 
proprietor,  laid  to  rest  in  an  old  linen  handker- 
chief, is  sleeping  away  the  years  till  he  shall  be 
awakened  by  the  last  grand  reveille.  There's  no 
use  talking,  it's  tough. 


ANECDOTE  OF  SPOTTED  TAIL. 


rp  HE  popularity  of  the  above-named  chieftain 
dates  from  a  very  trifling  little  incident,  as 
did  that  of  many  other  men  who  are  now  great. 

Spotted  Tail  had  never  won  much  distinction 
up  to  that  time,  except  as  the  owner  of  an 
appetite,  in  the  presence  of  which  his  tribe  stood 
in  dumb  and  terrible  awe. 

During  the  early  days  of  what  is  now  the  great 
throbbing  and  ambitious  west,  the  tribe  camped 
near  Fort  Sedgwick,  and  Big  Mouth,  a  chief  of 
some  importance,  used  to  go  over  to  the  post  reg- 
ularly for  the  purpose  of  filling  his  brindle  hide 
full  of  Fort  Sedgwick  Bloom  of  Youth.  ^ 

As  a  consequence  of  Big  Mouth's  fatal  yearn- 
ing for  liquid  damnation,  he  generally  got  impu- 
dent, and  openly  announced  on  the  parade  ground 
that  he  could  lick  the  entire  regular  army.  This 
used  to  offend  some  of  the  blood-scarred  heroes 
who  had  just  arrived  from  West  Point,  and  in  the 
heat  of  debate  they  would  warm  the  venerable 
warrior  about  two  feet  below  the  back  of  his  neck 
with  the  flat  of  their  sabers. 

This  was  a  gross  insult  to  Big  Mouth,  and  he 
went  back  to  the  camp,  where  he  found  Spotted 
212 


ANECDOTE  OF  SPOTTED  TAIL.  215 

m 

Tail  eating  a  mule  that  had  died  of  inflammatory 
rheumatism.  Big  Mouth  tearfully  told  the  wild 
epicure  of  the  way  he  had  been  treated,  and  asked 
for  a  council  of  war.  Spot  picked  his  teeth  with 
a  tent  pin,  and  then  told  the  defeated  relic  of  a 
mighty  race  that  if  he  would  quit  strong  drink, 
he  would  be  subjected  to  fewer  insults. 

Big  Mouth  then  got  irritated,  and  told  S.  Tail 
that  his  remarks  showed  that  he  was  standing,  in 
with  the  aggressor,  and  was  no  friend  to  his  people. 

Spotted  Tail  said  that  Mr.  B.  Mouth  was  a  liar, 
by  yon  high  heaven,  and  before  there  was  time  to 
think  it  over,  he  took  a  butcher  knife,  about  four 
feet  long,  from  its  scabbard  and  cut  Mr.  Big 
Mouth  plumb  in  two  just  between  the  umbilicus 
and  the  watch  pocket. 

As  the  reader  who  is  familiar  with  anatomy 
has  already  surmised,  Big  Mouth  died  from  the 
effects  of  this  wound,  and  Spotted  Tail  was  at  once 
looked  upon  as  the  Moses  of  his  tribe.  He  readily 
rose  to  prominence,  and  by  his  strict  attention  to 
the  duties  of  his  office,  made  for  himself  a  name 
as  a  warrior  and  a  pie  biter,  at  which  the  world 
turned  pale. 

This  should  teach  us  the  importance  of  taking 
the  tide  at  its  flood,  which  leads  on  to  fortune, 
and  to  lay  low  when  there  is  a  hen  on,  as  Benja- 
min Franklin  has  so  truly  said* 


THE  ZEALOUS  YOTER 


PEAKING  of  New  York  politics,"  said 


day,  "they  have  a  cheerful  way  of  doing  business 
in  Gotham,  and  at  first  it  rather  surprised  me.  I 
went  into  New  York  a  short  time  before  election, 
and  a  Democratic  friend  told  me  I  had  better  go 
and  get  registered  so  I  could  'wote.'  I  did  so, 
for  I  hate  to  lose  the  divine  right  of  suffrage, 
even  when  I'm  a  good  way  from  home. 

"When  election  day  came  around,  I  went  over 
to  the  polls  in  a  body,  in  the  afternoon,  but  they 
wouldn't  let  erne  vote.  I  told  them  I  was  regis- 
tered all  right,  and  that  I  had  a  right  and  must 
exercise  it  the  same  as  any  other  Democrat  in  this 
enlightened  land,  but  they  swore  at  me  and 
entreated  me  roughly,  and  told  me  to  go  there 
myself,  and  that  I  had  already  voted  once  and 
couldn't  do  it  any  more.  I  had  always  thought 
that  New  York  was  prone  to  vigilance  and  indus- 
try in  the  suffrage  business,  and  early  and  often 
was  what  I  supposed  was  the  grand  hailing  sign. 
It  made  me  mad,  therefore,  to  have  the  city  get 
so  virtuous  all  at  once  that  it  couldn't  even  let  me 
vote  once. 


Cummings,  the  other 


THE  ZEALOUS  VOTER. 


217 


"I  was  irritated  and  extremely  ill-natured 
when  I  went  back  to  Mr.  McGinnis,  and  told  him 
of  the  great  trouble  I  had  had  with  the  judges  of 
election,  and  I  denounced  New  York  politics 
with  a  great  deal  of  fervor. 

"  Mr.  McGinnis  said  it  was  all  right. 

« '  That's  aizy  enough  to  me,  George.  Give  me 
something  difficult.  Sit  down  and  rist  yoursilf. 
Don't  get  excited  and  talk  so  loud.  I  know'd  yez 
was  out  lasht  night  wid  the  byes  and  you  didn't 
feel  like  gettin'  up  airly  to  go  to  the  pons,  so  I 
got  wan  av  the  byes  to  go  over  and  wote  your 
name.  That's  all  roight,  come  here'nd  have 
someding.' 

"  I  saw  at  a  glance  that  New  York  people  were 
attending  to  these  things  thoroughly  and  care- 
fully, and  since  that  when  I  hear  that  '  a  full  vote 
hasn't  been  polled  in  New  York  city 5  for  some 
unknown  cause,  I  do  not  think  it  is  true.  I  look 
upon  the  statement  with  great  reserve,  for  I 
believe  they  vote  people  there  who  have  been 
dead  for  centuries,  and  people  who  have  not  yet 
arrived  in  this  country,  nor  even  expressed  a 
desire  to  come  over.  I  am  almost  positive  that 
they  are  still  voting  the  bones  of  old  A.  T.  Stew- 
art up  in  the  doubtful  wards,  and  as  soon  as 
Charlie  Ross  is  entitled  to  vote,  he  will  most 
assuredly  be  permitted  to  represent. 


218 


BALED  HAY. 


"Why,  there's  one  ward  there  where  they  vote 
the  theatre  ghosts  and  the  spirit  of  Hamlet's 
father  hasn't  missed  an  election  for  a  hundred 
years." 


HOW  TO  PBESEEVE  TEETH. 


"  T  FIND,"  said  an  old  man  to  a  Boomerang 
reporter,  yesterday,  "that  there  is  absolutely 
no  limit  to  the  durability  of  the  teeth,  if  they  are 
properly  taken  care  of.  I  never  drink  hot  drinks, 
always  brush  my  teeth  morning  and  evening, 
avoid  all  acids  whatever,  and  although  I  am  65 
years  old,  my  teeth  are  as  good  as  ever  they 
were."  "  And  that  is  all  you  do  to  preserve  your 
teeth,  is  it?"  "Yes,  sir;  that's  all — barring,  per- 
haps, the  fact  that  I  put  them  in  a  glass  of  soft 
water  nights." 


ME.  BEEOHEE'S  BEAU. 


"IV/rK.  BEECHEB  has  raked  in  $2,000,000  with 
-L-^-L  his  brain.  A  good,  tall,  bulging  brow,  and 
a  brain  that  will  give  down  like  that,  are  rather 
to  be  chosen  than  a  blind  lead,  and  an  easy  run- 
ning cerebellum,  than  a  stone  quarry  with  a  silent 
but  firm  skunk  in  it. 


OH, 


"  rpHE '  telephone  line  between  Cheyenne  and 
JL  Laramie  City  will  soon  be  in  operation.  It 
won't  work,  however.  It  may  be  a  success  for  a 
time,  but  sooner  or  later  Bill  Nye  will  set  his  lop- 
sided jaws  at  work  in  front  of  the  transmitter , 
and  pour  a  few  quarts  of  untutored  lies  into  the 
contribution  box,  which  does  service  as  a  part  of 
the  telephone  machine.  Then  the  wires  will  be 
yanked  off  the  poles,  a  hissing  torrent  of  prevari- 
cation will  blow  the  battery  jars  clean  over  into 
Utah,  and  the  listener  at  the  Cheyenne  end  will 
be  gathered  up  in  a  basket.  Weeping  friends  will 
hold  a  funeral  over  a  pair  of  old  boots  and  a  frag- 
ment of  shoulder  blade  — the  remains  of  the 
departed  Cheyennese.  It  is  a  weird  and  pixycal 
thing  to  be  a  natural  born  liar,  but  there  are 
times  when  a  robust  lie  will  successfully  defy  the 
unanimous  inventive  genius  of  the  age." — Sun. 

Oh,  do  not  say  those  cruel  words,  kind  friend. 
Do  not  throw  it  up  to  us  that  we  are  weird  and 
pixycal.  Oh,  believe  us,  kind  sir,  we  may  have 
done  wrong,  but  we  never  did  that.  We  know 
that  election  is  approaching,  and  all  sorts  of  by- 
gone crookedness  is  raked  up  at  that  time,  even 
219 


220 


BALED  HAY. 


when  a  man  is  not  a  candidate  for  office,  but  we 
ask  the  public  to  scan  our  record  and  see  if  the 
charge  made  by  the  Sim  is  true.  It  may  be  that 
years  ago  we  escaped  justice  and  fled  to  the  west 
under  an  assumed  name,  but  no  man  ever  before 
charged  us  with  being  weird  and  pixycal.  We 
have  been  in  all  kinds  of  society,  perhaps,  and 
mingled  with  people  who  were  our  inferiors, 
having  been  pulled  by  the  police  once  while 
visiting  a  Democratic  caucus,  but  that  was  our  mis- 
fortune, not  our  fault.  We  w^ere  not  a  member  of 
the  caucus  and  were  therefore  discharged,  but 
even  little  things  like  that  ought  to  be  forgotten. 

As  for  entering  any  one's  appartments  and  com- 
mitting a  pixycal  crime,  w^e  state  now  without 
fear  of  successful  contradiction,  that  it  is  not  so.  It 
is  no  sign  because  a  man  in  an  unguarded  moment 
entered  the  Kock  Creek  eating  house  and  gave 
way  to  his  emotions,  that  he  is  a  person  to  be 
shunned.  '  It  was  hunger,  and  not  love  for  the 
questionable,  that  made  us  go  there.  It  is  not 
because  wre  are  by  nature  weird  or  pixycal,  for  we 
are  not.  We  are  not  angry  over  this  charge.  It 
just  simply  hurts  and  grieves  us.  It  comes  too, 
at  a  time  wThen  we  are  trying  to  lead  a  different 
life,  and  while  others  are  trying  to  lend  us  every 
aid  and  encouragement.  We  have  many  friends 
in  Cheyenne  who  want  to  see  us  come  up  and  take 


THE  MARCH  OF  CIVILIZATION. 


221 


higher  ground,  but  how  can  we  do  so  if  the  press 
Lends  its  influence  against  us.  That's  just  the  way 
we  feel  about  it.  If  the  public  prints  try  to  put 
us  down  and  crush  us  in  this  manner,  we  will 
probably  get  desperate  and  be  just  as  weird  and 
pixycal  as  we  can  be. 


THE  MAECH  OF  CIVILIZATION. 


«  QPOKANE  IKE,"  the  Indian  who  killed  a 
O  doctor  last  summer  for  failing  to  cure  his 
child,  has  been  hanged.  This  shows  the  onward 
march  of  civilization,  and  vouchsafes  to  us  the 
time  when  a  doctor's  life  will  be  in  less  danger 
than  that  of  his  patient. 


A~N  UNCLOUDED  WELCOME. 


\T  P.  WILLIS  once  said:  uThe  sweetest  thing 
•  in  life  is  the  unclouded  welcome  of  a  wife." 
This  is  true,  indeed,  but  when  her  welcome  is 
clouded  with  an  atmosphere  of  angry  words  and 
coal  scuttles,  there  is.  something  about  it  that 
makes  a  man  want  to  go  out  in  the  woodshed  and 
sleep  on  the  ice-chest. 


THE  PILLOW-SHAM  HOLDER 


OME  enemy  to  mankind  has  recently  invented 


^  an  infernal  machine  known  as  the  pillow-sham 
holder,  which  is  attached  to  the  head  of  the  bed- 
stead and  works  with  a  spiral  spring.  It  is  a 
kind  of  refined  towel-rack  on  which  yon  hang  your 
pillow-shams  at  night  so  they  wont  get  busted 
by  the  man  of  the  house.  The  man  of  the  house 
generally  gets  the  pillows-shams  down  under  his 
feet  when  he  undresses  and  polishes  off  his  cun- 
ning little  toes  on  the  lace  poultice  on  which  his 
wife  prides  herself.  This  pillow-sham  holder 
saves  all  this.  You  just  yank  your  pillow-sham 
off  the  bed  and  hang  it  on  this  high-toned  sham 
holder,  where  it  rests  all  night.  At  least  that's 
the  intention.  After  a  little  while,  however,  the 
spring  gets  weak,  and  the  holder  buckles  to,  or 
caves  in,  or  whatever  you  may  call"  it,  at  the  most 
unexpected  moment.  The  slightest  movement  on 
the  part  of  the  occupant  of  the  bed,  turns  loose 
the  pillow-sham  holder,  and  the  slumberer  gets  it 
across  the  bridge  of  his  or  her  nose,  as  the  case 
may  be.  Sometimes  the  vibration  caused  by  a 
midnight  snore,  will  unhinge  this  weapon  of  the 
devil,  and  it  will  whack  the  sleeper  across  the 


SOMETHING  FRESH. 


223 


features  in  a  way  that  scares  him  almost  to  death. 
If  you  think  it  is  a  glad  surprise  to  get  a  lick 
across  the  perceptive  faculties  in  the  middle  of  a 
sound  slumber,  when  you  are  dreaming  of  elysium 
and  high-priced  peris  and  such  things  as  that,  just 
try  the  death-dealing  pillow-sham  holder,  and 
then  report  in  writing  to  the  chairman  of  the 
executive  committee.  It  is  well  calculated  to  fill 
the  soul  with  horror  and  amaze.  A  raven-black 
Saratoga  wave,  hanging  on  the  back  of  a  chair, 
has  been  known  to  turn  white  in  a  single  night 
as  the  result  of  the  sudden  kerflummix  of  one  of 
these  cheerful  articles  of  furniture. 


SOMETHING  FKESH. 

OUR  Saturday  dispatches  announce  that  an 
infernal  machine  had  just  been  received  at 
the  office  of  Chief  Justice  Field,  and  later  on, 
Justice  Field,  who  was  in  Wyoming  Saturday, 
said  to  a  reporter  that  the  machine  was  one  that 
was  sent  to  him  in  1866,  and  that  last  week  he 
sent  it  down  to  a  gun  factory  to  have  the  powder 
taken  out,  as  he  wished  to  stuff  it  and  preserve  it 
among  the  archives.  \ 

"With  the  aid  of  the  telegraph  and  the  facilities 
of  the  Associated  Press,  it  does  seem  as  though 


224: 


BALED  HAY. 


we  were  living  in  an  age  of  almost  miraculous 
possibilities.  Here  is  an  instance  where  an  infer- 
nal machine  is  sent  to  a  prominent  man,  and  in 
less  than  sixteen  years  the  news  is  flashed  to  the 
four  quarters  of  the  globe  like  lightning.  How 
long  will  it  be  before  the  whole  bloody  history  of 
the  war  of  the  rebellion  will  be  sent  to  every 
hamlet  in  the  land?  How  long  before  the  safe 
arrival  of  the  ark,  and  the  losses  occasioned  by 
the  deluge,  will  be  given  to  us  in  dollars  and 
cents  ? 

People  don't  fully  realize  the  advantages  we 
possess  in  this  glorious  nineteenth  century.  They 
take  all  these  things  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
forget  how  the  palpitating  brain  palps  for  them, 
and  how  the  quivering  nerve  quivs  on  and  on 
through  the  silent  night  in  order  that  humanity 
may  keep  informed  in  relation  to  ancient  history. 


A  BAREFOOTED  GODDESS. 


THEEE'S  one  little  national  matter  that  has 
been  neglected  about  long  enough,  it  seems 
to  us.  If  the  goddess  of  liberty  is  allowed  to  go 
barefoot  for  another  century,  her  delicate  toes 
will  spread  out  over  this  nation  like  the  shadow 
of  a  great  woe. 


YAKKED  TO  ETEKKITY. 


ONCE,  when  a  section-crew  came  down  the 
mountain  on  the  South  Park  road,  from 
Alpine  Tunnel  to  Buena  Vista,  a  very  singular 
thing  occurred,  which  has  never  been  given  to 
the  public.  Every  one  who  knows  anything  at 
all,  knows  that  riding  down  that  mountain  on  a 
push-car,  descending  at  the  rate  of  over  200  feet 
to  the  mile,  means  utter  destruction,  unless  the 
brake  is  on.  This  brake  is  nothing  more  nor  less 
then  a  piece  of  scantling,  which  is  applied  between 
one  of  the  wheels  and  the  car-bed,  in  such  a  way 
as  to  produce  great  friction. 

The  section-crew  referred  to,  got  on  at  Han- 
cock with  their  bronzed  and  glowing  hides  as  full 
of  arsenic  and  rain-water  as  they  could  possibly 
hold.  Being  recklessly  drunk,  they  enjoyed  the 
accumulated  velocity  of  the  car  wonderfully,  until 
the  section  boss  lost  the  break  off  the  car,  aud 
then  there  was  a  slight  feeling  of  anxiety.  The 
car  at  last  acquired  a  velocity  like  that  of  a  young 
and  frolicsome  bob-tailed  comet  turned  loose  in 
space.  The  boys  began  to  get  nervous  at  last, 
and  asked  each  other  what  should  be  done. 
15  225 


226 


BALED  HAY. 


There  seemed  to  be  absolutely  nothing  to  do 
bat  to  shoot  onward  into  the  golden  presently. 

All  at  once  the  section  boss  thought  of  some- 
thing. He  was  drunk,  but  the  deadly  psril  of 
the  moment  suggested  an  idea.  There  was  a 
rope  on  the  car  which  would  do  to  tie  to  some- 
thing heavy  and  cast  off  for  an  anchor.  Tl  .e  idea 
was  only  partially  successful,  however,  foj  there 
was  nothing  to  tie  to  but  a  spike  hammer.  This 
was  tried  but  it  wouldn't  work.  Then  it  was 
decided  to  tie  it  to  some  one  of  the  crew  ai  id  cast 
him  loose  in  order  to  save  the  lives  of  thoje  who 
remained.  It  was  a  glorious  opportunity.  It 
was  a  heroic  thing  to  do.  It  was  like  Arnold 
Wmklered's  great  sacrifice,  by  which  victory  was 
gained  by  filling  his  own  system  full  of  lances 
and  making  a  toothpick  holder  of  himself,  in 
order  that  his  comrades  might  break  through 
the  ranks  of  their  foes. 

George  O'Malley,  the  section  boss,  said  that  he 
was  willing  that  Patsy  McBride  should  snatch  the 
laurels  from  outrageous  fortune  and  bind  them 
on  his  brow,  but  Mr.  McBride  said  he  didn't  care 
much  for  the  encomiums  of  the  world.  He  hadn't 
lost  any  encomiums,  and  didn't  want  to  trade  his 
liver  for  two  dollars'  worth  of  damaged  laurels. 

Everyone  declined.  All  seemed  willing  to  go 
down  into  history  without  any  ten-line  pay-local, 


YANKED  TO  ETERNITY. 


227 


and  wanted  someone  else  to  get  the  effulgence. 
Finally,  it  was  decided  that  a  man  by  the  name 
of  Christian  Christianson  was  the  man  to  tie  to. 
He  had  the  asthma  anyhow,  and  life  wasn't  much 
of  an  object  to  him,  so  they  said  that,  although 
he  declined,  -  he  must  take  the  nomination,  as  he 
was  in  the  hands  of  his  friends. 

So  they  tied  the  rope  around  Christian  and  cast 
anchor. 

x  x  #  #  *  * 
The  car  slowed  up  and  at  last  stopped  still. 
The  plan  had  succeeded.  Five  happy  wives 
greeted  their  husbands  that  night  as  they  returned 
from  the  jaws  of  destruction.  Christian  Christ- 
ianson did  not  return.  The  days  may  come  and 
the  days  may  go,  but  Christian's  wife  will  look  up 
toward  the  summit  of  the  snow-crowned  mount- 
ains in  vain. 

He  will  never  entirely  return.  He  has  done  so 
partially,  of  course,  but  there  are  still  missing 
fragments  of  him,  and  it  looks  as  though  he  must 
have  lost  his  life. 


WHY  WE  SHED  THE  SCALDING. 


TJST  justice  to  ourself  we  desire  to  state  that  the 
Cheyenne  Sun  has  villified  us  and  placed  us 
in  a  false  position  before  the  public.  It  has  stated 
that  while  at  Eock  Creek  station,  in  the  early 
part  of  the  week,  we  were  taken  for  a  peanutter, 
and  otherwise  ill-treated  at  the  railroad  eating 
corral  and  omelette  emporium,  and  that  in  conse- 
quence of  such  treatment  we  shed  great  scalding 
tears  as  large  as  watermelons.  This  is  not  true. 
We  did  shed  the  tears  as  above  set  forth,  but  not 
because  of  ill-treatment  on  the  part  of  the  eating- 
house  proprietor. 

It  was  the  presence  of  death  that  broke  our 
heart  and  opened  the  fountains  of  our  great  deep, 
so  to  speak.  When  we  poured  the  glucose  syrup 
on  our  pancakes,  the  stiff  and  cold  remains  of  a 
large  beetle  and  two  cunning  little  twin  cock- 
roaches fell  out  into  our  plate,  and  lay  there 
hushed  in  an  eternal  repose. 

Death  to  us  is  all  powerful.  The  King  of  Ter- 
rors is  to  us  the  mighty  sovereign  before  whom 
we  must  all  bow,  from  the  mighty  emperor  down 
to  the  meanest  slave,  from  the  railroad  superin- 
tendent, riding  in  his  special  car,  down  to  the 
228 


WHY  WE  SHED  THE  SCALDING. 


229 


humblest  humorist,  all  alike  must  some  day  curl 
up  and  die.  This  saddens  us  at  all  times,  but 
more  peculiarly  so  when  Death,  with  his  relentless 
lawn  mower,  has.  gathered  in  the  young  and  inno- 
cent. This  was  the  case  where  two  little  twin 
cockroaches,  whose  lives  had  been  unspotted,  and 
whose  years  had  been  unclouded  by  wrong  and 
selfishness,  were  called  upon  to  meet  death  to- 
gether. In  the  stillness  of  the  night,  when  others 
slept,  these  affectionate  little  twins  crept  into  the 
glucose  syrup  and  died. 

We  hope  no  one  will  misrepresent  this  matter. 
We  did  weep,  and  we  are  not  ashamed  to  own  it. 
We  sat  there  and  sobbed  until  the  tablecloth  was 
wet  for  four  feet,  and  the  venerable  ham  was 
floating  around  in  tears.  It  was  not  for  ourself, 
however,  that  w^e  wept.  No  unkindness  on  the 
part  of  an  eating-house  ever  provoked  such  a 
tornado  of  woe.  We  just  weep  when  we  see 
death  and  are  brought  in  close  contact  with  it. 
And  we  were  not  the  only  one  that  shed  tears. 
Dickinson  and  Warren  wept,  strong  men  as  they 
were.  Even  the  butter  wept.  Strong  as  it  was  it 
could  not  control  its  emotions. 

We  don't  very  often  answer  a  newspaper  attack, 
but  when  we  are  accused  of  weeping  till  people 
have  to  take  off  their  boots  and  wring  out  their 
socks,  we  want  the  public  to  know  what  it  is  for. 


ANOTHER  SUGGESTION. 


E  were  surprised  and  grieved  to  see,  on 


*  *  Monday  evening,  a  man  in  the  dress  circle 
at  the  performance  of  Hazel  Kirke  at  Blackburn's 
Grand  Opera  House,  who  had  communed  with  the 
maddening  bowl  till  he  was  considerably  elated. 
When  Pitticus  made  a  good  hit,  or  Hazel  struck  a 
moist  lead,  and  everybody  wrept  softly  on  the  car- 
pet, this  man  furnished  a  war-whoop  that  not  only 
annoyed  the  audience,  but  seemed  also  to  break 
up  the  actors  a  little.  Later,  he  got  more  quiet, 
and  at  last  went  to  sleep  and  slid  out  of  his  chair 
on  the  floor.  It  is  such  little  episodes  as  these 
that  make  strangers  dissatisfied  with  the  glorious 
wrest.  When  you  go  to  see  something  touchf ul  on 
the  stage,  you  do  not  care  to  have  your  finer  feel- 
ings ruffled  by  the  yells  of  a  man  who  has  got  a 
corner  on  delirium  tremens. 

It  is  also  humiliating  to  our  citizens  to  be  pulled 
up  off  the  floor  by  the  coat-collar  and  steered  out 
the  door  by  a  policeman. 

We  hope  that  as  progress  is  more  plainly  visible 
in  Wyoming,  and  as  we  get  more  and  more  refined, 
such  things  will  be  of  less  and  less  frequent  occur- 
rence, till  a  man  can  go  to  see  a  theatrical  per- 


230 


ANOTHER  SEGGESTION. 


231 


formance  with  just  as  much  comfort  as  he  would 
in  New  York  and  other  eastern  towns. 

Another  point  while  we  are  discussing  the  per- 
formance of  Hazel  Kirke.  There  were  some  pres- 
ent on  Monday  night,  sitting  back  in  the  third 
balcony,  who  need  a  theatrical  guide  to  aid  them 
in  discovering  which  are  the  places  to  weep  and 
which  to  gurgle. 

It  was  a  little  embarrassing  to  Miss  Ellsler  to 
make  a  grand  dramatic  hit  that  was  supposed  to 
yank  loose  a  freshet  of  woe,  to  be  greeted  with  a 
snort  of  demoniac  laughter  from  the  rear  of  the 
grand  opera  house. 

It  seemed  to  unnerve  her  and  surprise  her,  but 
she  kept  her  balance  and  her  head.    When  death 
and  ruin,  and  shame  and  dishonor,  were  pictured 
in  their  tragic  horror,  the  wild,  unfettered  humorist 
of  a  crude  civilization  fairly  yelled  with  delight. 
He  thought  that  the  tomb  and  such  things  were 
intended  to  be  synonymous  with  the  minstrel 
show  and  the  circus.    He  thought  that  old  Dun- 
stan  Kirke  was  there  with  his  sightless  eyes  to 
give  Laramie  the  grandest,  riproaringest  tempest 
of  mirth  that  she  had  ever  experienced.    That  is 
why  we  say  that  we  will  never  have  a  successful 
performance  in  the  theatrical  line,  till  some  of 
this  class  are  provided  with  laugh-and-cry  guide 
books. 


PISCATORIAL  AWD  EDITORIAL. 


A  COKKESPONDENT  of  the  New  York 
Post  says  that  the  codfish  frequents  "the 
table  lands  of  the  sea."  The  codfish,  no  doubt, 
does  this  to  secure  as  nearly  as  possible  a  dry, 
bracing  atmosphere.  This  pure  air  of  the  subma- 
rine table  lands  gives  to  the  codfish  that  breadth 
of  chest  and  depth  of  lungs  which  we  "have  always 
noticed. 

The  glad,  free  smile  of  the  codfish  is  largely 
attributed  to  the  exhilaration  of  this  oceanic 
altitoodleum. 

The  correspondent  further  says,  that  "the  cod 
subsists  largely  on  the  sea  cherry."  Those  who 
have  not  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  codfish 
climb  the  sea  cherry  tree  in  search  of  food,  or 
clubbing  the  fruit  from  the  heavily-laden  branches 
with  chunks  of  coral,  have  missed  a  very  fine 
sight. 

The  codfish,  when  at  home  rambling  through 
the  submarine  forests,  does  not  wear  his  vest 
unbuttoned,  as  he  does  while  loafing  around  the 
grocery  stores  of  the  United  States. 

232 


ANOTHER  FEATHERED 

SONGSTER. 


AFOKT  STEELE  taxidermist  has  presented 
this  office  with  a  stuffed  bird  of  prey  about 
nine  feet  high,  which  we  have  put  up  in  The  * 
Boomerang  office,  and  hereby  return  thanks  for. 
It  is  a  kind  of  a  cross  between  a  dodo  and  a 
meander-up-the-creek.  Its  neck  is  long,  like  the 
right  of  way  to  a  railway,  and  its  legs  need  some 
sawdust  to  make  them  look  healthy.  Those  who 
subscribe  for  the  paper,  can  look  at  this  great 
work  of  art  free. 

This  bird  is  noted  for  its  brief  and  horizontal 
alimentary  canal.  It  has  no  devious  digestive 
arrangements,  but  contents  itself  with  an  econom- 
ical and  unostentatious  trunk-line  of  digestion  so 
simple  that  any  child  can  understand  it.  He  (or 
she,  as  the  case  may  be)  in  his  (or  her)  stocking 
feet  can  easily  look  over  into  next  fall,  and  when 
standing  in  our  office,  peers  down  at  us  from  over 
the  stove-pipe  in  a  reproachful  way  that  fills  us 
with  remorse. 

We  have  labeled  it  "  The  Democrat  Wading  Up 
Salt  Creek"  and  filed  it  away  near  the  skull  of  an 
Indian  that  we  killed  years  ago  when  we  got  mad 
233 


234 


BALED  HAY. 


and  wiped  out  a  whole  tribe.  The  geological 
name  of  this  bird  we  do  not  at  this  moment 
recall,  but  it  is  one  of  those  sorrowful-looking 
fowls  that  stick  their  legs  out  behind  when  they 
fly,  and  are  not  good  for  food. 

Parties  wishing  to  see  the  bird,  and  subscribe 
for  the  Home  Journal  can  obtain  an  audience  by 
kicking  three  times  on  the  last  hall  door  on  the 
left  and  throwing  two  dollars  through  the  transom. 


ABOUT  THE  OSTEICH. 


THEEE  is  some  prospect  of  ostrich  farming 
developing  into  quite  an  industry  in  the 
southwest,  and  it  will  sometime  be  a  cold  day 
when  the  simple-minded  rustic  of  that  region  will 
not  have  ostrich  on  toast  if  he  wants  it.  Ostrich 
farming,  however,  will  always  have  its  drawbacks. 
The  hen  ostrich  is  not  a  good  layer  as  a  rule,  only 
laying  two  eggs  per  annum,  which,  being  about 
the  size  of  a  porcelain  wash  bowl,  make  her  so 
proud  that  she  takes  the  balance  of  the  year  for 
the  purpose  of  convalescing. 

The  ostrich  is  chiefly  valuable  for  the  plumage 
which  he  wears,  and  which,  when  introduced  into 
the  world  of  commerce,  makes  the  husband  almost 
wish  that  he  were  dead. 


TOO  MUCH  GOD  AND  NO  FLOUR. 


235 


Probably  the  ostrich  will  not  come  into  general 
use  as  an  article  of  food,  few  people  caring  for  it, 
as  the  meat  is  coarse,  and  the  gizzard  full  of  old 
hardware,  and  relics  of  wrecked  trains  and  old 
irons  left  where  there  has  been  a  fire. 

Carving  the  ostrich  is  not  so  difficult  as  carving 
the  quail,  because  the  joints  are  larger  and  one 
can  find  them  with  less  trouble.  Still,  the  bird 
takes  up  a  great  deal  of  room  at  the  table,  and 
the  best  circles  are  not  using  them. 

The  ostrich  does  not  set  She  don't  have  time. 
She  does  not  squat  down  over  something  and 
insist  on  hatching  it  out  if  it  takes  all  summer, 
but  she  just  lays  a  couple  of  porcelain  cuspidors 
in  the  hot  sand  when  she  feels  like  it,  and  then 
goes  away  to  the  seaside  to  quiet  her  shattered 
nerves. 


TOO  MUCH  GOD  AKD  WO  FLOUR. 


OLD  CHIEF  POCOTELLO,  now  at  the  Fort 
Hall  agency,  in  answer  to  an  inquiry  relative 
to  the  true  christian  character  of  a  former  Indian 
agent  at  that  place,  gave  in  very  terse  language 
the  most  accurate  description  of  a  hypocrite  that 
was  ever  given  to  the  public.  "  Ugh !  Too  much 
God  and  no  flour." 


WE  ABE  GETTING  CYNICAL. 


IT  begins  to  look  now  as  though  Major  F.  GL 
Wilson,  who  stopped  here  a  short  time  last 
week  and  week  before,  might  be  a  gentleman  in 
disguise.  He  has  done  several  things  since  he  left 
here,  that  look  to  a  man  up  a  tree  like  something 
irregular  and  peculiar.  The  major  has  not  only 
prevaricated,  but  he  has  done  so  in  such  a  way  as 
to  beat  his  friends  and  to  make  them  yearn  for  his 
person  in  order  that  they  may  kick  him  over  into 
the  inky  night  of  space.  He  has  represented 
himself  as  confidential  adviser  and  literary  tourist 
of  several  prominent  New  York,  Chicago,  Omaha 
and  Tie  Siding  dailies,  and  had  such  good  docu- 
ments to  show  in  proof  of  his  identity  in  that 
capacity  that  he  has  received  many  courtesies 
which,  as  an  ordinary  American  dead-beat,  he 
might  have  experienced  great  difficulty  in  secur- 
ing. We  simply  state  this  in  order  to  put  our 
esteemed  contemporaries  on  their  guard,  so  that 
they  will  not  let  him  spit  in  their  overshoes  and 
enjoy  himself  as  he  did  here.  He  wears  a  white 
hat  on  his  head  and  a  crooked  tooth  in  the  piazza 
of  his  mouth.  This  pearly  fang  he  uses  to  masti- 
cate and  reduce  little  delicate  irregular  fragments 
236 


WE  ARE  GETTING  CYNICAL. 


237 


of  plug  tobacco,  which  he  borrows  of  people  who 
have  time  to  listen  to  the  silvery  tinkle  of  his 
bazoo. 

When  last  seen  he  was  headed  west,  and  wil 
probably  strike  Eureka,  Nevada,  in  a  week  orl 
two.  His  mission  seems  to  be  mainly  to  make 
people  feel  a  goneness  in  their  exchequer,  and  to 
distribute  tobacco  dados  over  the  office  stoves  of 
our  great  land.  He  is  a  man  who  writes  long 
letters  to  the  New  York  Herald  that  are  never 
printed.  His  freshly  blown  nose  is  red,  but  his 
newspaper  articles  are  not.  He  claims  to  repre- 
sent the  Mutual  Eeserve  Fund  Life  Association 
lately,  too.  The  company  represents  the  Insur- 
ance and  he  attends  to  the  Mutual  Eeserve  Fund. 
He  has  mutually  reserved  all  the  funds  he  could 
get  hold  of  since  he  struck  the  west,  besides 
mutually  reserving  enough  strong  drink  to  eat  a 
hole  through  the  Ames  monument. 

Such  men  as  Major  "Wilson  make  us  suspicious 
of  humanity,  and  very  likely  the  next  man  who 
comes  along  here  and  represents  that  he  is  a  great 
man,  and  wants  five  dollars  on  his  well-rounded 
figure  and  fair  fame  will  have  to  be  identified. 
We  have  helped  forty  or  fifty  such  men  to  make 
a  bridal  tour  of  Wyoming  and  now  we  are  going 
to  sawr  off  and  quit.  When  a  great  journalist 
comes  into  this  office  again  with  an  internal  rev- 


238 


BALED  HAY. 


enue  tax  on  his  breath  and  nineteen  dollars  back 
on  his  baggage,  we  will  probably  pick  up  a  fifty- 
pound  chunk  of  North  Park  quartz  and  spread 
his  intellectual  faculties  around  this  building  til] 
it  looks  like  the  Custer  massacre. 


ASK  ITS  SOMETHING  DIFFICULT, 


""YTTHAT  becomes  of  our  bodies?"  asks  a  soft 
*  *  eyed  scientist,  and  we  answer  in  stento- 
rian tones,  that  they  get  inside  of  a  red  flannel 
undershirt  as  the  maple  turns  to  crimson  and  the 
sassafras  to  gold.  Ask  us  something  difficult 
ethereal  being,  if  you  want  to  see  us  get  up  and 
claw  for  our  library  of  public  documents. 


A  MINING  EXPERIMENT. 


A MILD-EYED  youth,  wearing  a  dessert-spoon 
hat  and  polka-dot  socks,  went  into  Middle 
Park  the  other  day  and  claimed  to  be  a  mining 
expert.  The  boys  inveigled  him  into  driving  a 
stick  of  giant  powder  into  a  drill-hole  at  the  bot- 
tom of  a  shaft  with  an  old  axe,  and  now  they  are 
trying  to  get  him  out  of  the  ground  with  ammonia 
and  a  tooth-brash. 


A  WEW  INDUSTRY. 


THE  want  column  of  the  Chicago  News  for 
October  10th  has  the  following :  "  Twelve 
'  frightful  examples '  wanted,  to  travel  with  Scott 
Marble's  new  drama  and  appear  in  the  realistic 
bar-room  scene  of  the  '  Drunkard's  Daughter.' 
Arthur  G.  Cambridge,  dramatic  agent,  75  South 
Clark  street." 

This  throws  open  a  field  of  usefulness  to  a  class 
of  men  who  hitherto  have  seen  no  prospect  what- 
ever for  the  future.  It  brings  within  the  reach 
of  such  men  a  business  which,  requiring  no  cap- 
ital, still  gives  the  actor  much  time  to  do  as  he 
chooses.  Beauty  often  wins  for  itself  a  place  in 
the  great  theatrical  world,  but  it  is  rare  that  the 
tomato  nose  and  the  watery  eye  secure  a  salary 
for  their  proprietors.  Business  must  be  picking 
up  when  the  wiggly  legs  and  danger-signal  nose 
will  bring  so  much  per  week  and  railroad  fare. 
Perhaps  prohibition  has  got  the  "  frightful  exam- 
ple" business  down  to  where  it  commands  the 
notice  of  the  world  because  of  its  seldom  con- 
dition. 


339 


THE  MIMIC  STAGE. 


AT  the  performance  of  uThe  Phoenix"  here, 
-O-  the  other  night,  there  was  a  very  affecting 
place  where  the  play  is  transferred  very  quickly 
from  a  street  scene  to  the  elegant  apartments  of 
Mr.  Blackburn,  the  heavy  villain.  The  street 
scene  had  to  be  raised  out  of  the  way,  and  the 
effect  of  the  transition  was  somewhat  marred  by 
the  reluctance  of  the  scenery  in  rolling  up  out  of 
the  way.  It  got  about  half  way  up,  and  stopped 
there  in  an  undecided  manner,  which  annoyed  the 
heavy  villain  a  good  deal.  He  started  to  make 
some  blood-curdling  remarks  about  Mr.  Bludsoe, 
and  had  got  pretty  well  warmed  up  when  the 
scenery  came  down  with  a  bang  on  the  stage. 
The  artist  who  pulls  up  the  curtain  and  fills  the 
hall  lamps,  then  pulled  the  scene  up  so  as  to  show 
the  villain's  feet  for  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes, 
but  he  couldn't  get  it  any  farther.  It  seemed  that 
the  clothes  line,  by  which  the  ela  borate  scenery  is 
operated,  got  tangled  up  some  way,  and  this 
caused  the  delay.  After  that  another  effort  was 
made,  and  this  time  the  street  scene  rolled  up  to 
about  the  third  story  of  a  brick  hotel  shown  in 
the  foreground,  and  stopped  there,  while  the 
240 


THE  MIMIC  STAGE. 


241 


clarionet  and  first  violin  continued  a  kind  of  sad 
tremulo.  Then  a  dark  hand,  with  a  wart  on  one 
finger  and  an  oriental  dollar  store  ring  on  another, 
came  out  from  behind  the  wings  and  began  to 
wind  the  clothes-line  carefully  around  the  pole  at 
the  foot  of  the  scene.  The  villain  then  proceeded 
with  his  soliloquy,  while  the  street  scene  hung  by 
one  corner  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  a  large  ware- 
house on  the  corner  of  the  street  stand  at  an  angle 
of  about  forty-five  degrees. 

Laramie  will  never  feel  perfectly  happy  until 
these  little  hitches  are  dispensed  with.  Supposing 
that  at  some  place  in  the  play,  where  the  heroine 
is  speaking  soft  and  low  to  her  lover  and  the 
proper  moment  has  arrived  for  her  to  pillow  her 
sunny  head  upon  his  bosom,  that  street  scene 
should  fetch  loose,  and  come  down  with  such 
momentum  as  to  knock  the  lovers  over  into  the 
arms  of  the  bass-viol  player.  Or  suppose  that  in 
some  death-bed  act  this  same  scene,  loaded  with  a 
telegraph  pole  at  the  bottom,  should  settle  down 
all  at  once  in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  the  death-bed 
out  on  the  corner  of  Monroe  and  Clark  streets,  in 
front  of  a  candy  store. 

Modern  stage  mechanism  has  now^  reached  such 
a  degree  of  perfection  that  the  stage  carpenter 
does  not  go  up  on  a  step  ladder,  in  the  middle  of 
a  play,  and  nail  the  corner  of  a  scene  to  a  stick  of 
16 


242 


BALED  HAY. 


2x4  scantling,  while  a  duel  is  going  on  near  the 
step  ladder.  In  all  the  larger  theatres  and  opera 
houses,  now,  they  are  not  doing  that  way. 

Of  course  little  incidents  occur,  however,  even 
on  the  best  stages,  and  where  the  whole  thing 
works  all  right.  For  instance,  the  other  day,  a 
young  actor,  who  was  kneeling  to  a  beautiful 
heiress  down  east,  got  a  little  too  far  front,  and 
some  scenery,  which  was  to  come  together  in  the 
middle  of  the  stage  to  pianissimo  music,  shut  him 
outside  and  divided  the  tableau  in  two,  leaving 
the  young  actor  apparently  kneeling  at  the  foot 
of  a  street  lamp,  as  though  he  might  be  hunting 
for  a  half  a  dollar  that  he  had  just  dropped  on 
the  sidewalk. 

There  was  a  play  in  New  York,  not  long  ago, 
in  which  there  was  a  kind  of  military  parade 
introduced,  and  the  leader  of  a  file  of  soldiers  had 
his  instructions  to  march  three  times  around  the 
stage  to  martial  music,  and  then  file  oif  at  the  left, 
the  whole  column,  of  course,  following  him.  After 
marching  once  around,  the  stage  manager  was 
surprised  to  see  the  leader  deliberately  wheel,  and 
walk  off  the  stage,  at  the  left,  with  the  whole 
battalion  following  at  his  heels.  The  manager 
went  to  him  and  abused  him  shamefully  for  his 
haste,  and  told  him  he  had  a  mind  to  discharge 
him ;  but  the  talented  hack  driver,  who  thus  acted 


COMPLICATED  SCENIC  EFFECT?. 


THE  MIMIC  STAGE. 


245 


as  the  military  leader,  and  who  had  over-played 
himself  by  marching  off  the  stage  ahead  of  time, 
said: 

"Well,  confound  it,  you  can  discharge  me  if 
you  want  to,  but  what  was  a  man  to  do  ?  Would 
you  have  me  march  around  three  times  when  my 
military  pants  were  coming  off,  and  I  knew  it? 
Military  pride,  pomp,  parade,  and  circumstance, 
are  all  right ;  but  it  can  be  overdone.  A  military 
squadron,  detachment,  or  whatever  it  is,  can  make 
more  of  a  parade,  under  certain  circumstances, 
than  is  advertised.  I  didn't  want  to  give  people 
more  show  than  they  paid  for,  and  I  ask  you  to 
put  yourself  in  my  place.  When  a  man  is  paid 
three  dollars  a  week  to  play  a  Eoman  soldier, 
would  you  have  him  play  the  Greek  slave  ?  No, 
sir ;  I  guess  I  know  what  I'm  hired  to  play,  and 
I'm  going  to  play  it.  When  you  want  me  to  play 
Adam  in  the  Garden  of  Eden,  just  give  me  my  fig 
leaf  and  salary  enough  to  make  it  interesting,  and 
I  will  try  and  properly  interpret  the  character  for 
you,  or  refund  the  money  at  the  door." 


DECLIKE  OF  AMEBICAN 
HUMOE. 


EAR,  mellow-voiced,  starry-eyed  reader,  did 


7  you  ever  see  something  about  "  the  decline 
of  American  humor?"  Well,  we  got  a  gob  of 
American  humor,  yesterday,  written  by  a  yahoo 
with  pale  pink  hair,  which  was  entitled  "Marriage 
in  Mormondom  on  the  Tontine  Plan."  Well,  we 
declined  it.    Decline  of  American  humor.    Sabe  ? 


CHICAGO  CUSTOM  HOUSE. 


HE  Chicago  custom  house  and  postoffice, 


built  from  designs  by  Oscar  Wild,  and  other 
delirum  tremens  artists,  is  getting  wiggly,  and 
bids  fair  to  some  day  fall  down  and  scrunch  about 
500  United  States  employes  into  the  great  billowy 
sea  of  the  eternal  hence.  It  is  a  sick  looking 
structure,  with  little  gothic  warts  on  top,  and 
red  window  sashes,  and  little  half-grown  smoke 
houses  sprouting  out  of  it  in  different  places.  It 
is  grand,  gloomy  and  peculiar,  and  looks  as  though 
it  might  be  cursed  with  an  inward  pain. 


FOREIGN  OPINIOK 


E  are  indebted  to  Fred  J.  Prouting,  corre- 
spondent of  the  foreign  and  British  news- 
paper press,  for  a  copy  of  the  London  Daily  News 
of  the  9th  inst.,  containing  the  following  editorial 
notice : 

« If  ever  celebrity  were  attained  unexpectedly, 
most  assuredly  it  was  that  thrust  upon  Bill  Nye 
by  Truthful  James.  It  is  just  possible,  however, 
that  the  innumerable  readers  of  Mr.  Bret  Harte's 
< Heathen  Chinee'  may  have  imagined  Bill  Nye 
and  Ah  Sin  to  be  purely  mythical  personages.  So 
far  as  the  former  is  concerned,  any  such  conclu- 
sion now  appears  to  have  been  erroneous.  Bill 
Nye  is  no  more  a  phantom  than  any  other  jour- 
nalist, although  the  name  of  the  organ  which  he 
'runs'  savors  more  of  fiction  than  of  fact.  But 
there  is  no  doubt  about  the  matter,  for  the  Wash- 
ington correspondent  of  the  New  York  Tribune 
telegraphed  on  the  29th  instant,  that  Bill  Nye  had 
accepted  a  post  under  the  government.  He  has 
lately  been  domiciled  in  Laramie  City,  Wyoming 
territory,  and  is  editor  of  The  Daily  Boomerang. 
In  reference  to  Acting-Postmaster-Gen.  Hatton's 
appointment  of  him  as  postmaster  at  Laramie 
247 


248 


BALED  HAY. 


City,  the  opponent  of  Ah  Sin  writes  an  extremely 
humorous  letter,  ' extending'  his  thanks,  and 
advising  his  chief  of  his  opinion  that  his  '  appoint- 
ment is  a  triumph  of  eternal  truth  over  error  and 
wrong.'  Nye  continues :  4  It  is  one  of  the  epochs, 
I  may  say,  in  the  nation's  onward  march  toward 
political  purity  and  perfection.  I  don't  know 
when  I  have  noticed  any  stride  in  the  affairs  of 
state  which  has  so  thoroughly  impressed  me  with 
its  wisdom.'  In  this  quiet  strain  of  banter,  Bill 
Nye  continues  to  the  end  of  his  letter,  which  sug- 
gests the  opinion  that  whatever  the  official  quali- 
fications of  the  new  postmaster  may  be,  the 
inhabitants  of  Laramie  City  must  have  a  very 
readable  newspaper  in  The  Daily  Boomerang." 

While  thanking  our  London  contemporary  for 
its  gentle  and  harmless  remarks,  we  desire  to  cor- 
rect an  erroneous  impression  that  the  News  seems 
to  have  as  to  our  general  style.  The  British  press 
has  in  some  way  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that 
the  editor  of  this  fashion-guide  and  mental  light- 
house on  the  rocky  shores  of  time  (terms  cash),  is 
a  party  with  wild  tangled  hair,  and  an  eye  like  a 
tongue  of  flame. 

That  is  not  the  case,  and  therefore  our  English 
co-worker  in  the  great  field  of  journalism  is,  no 
doubt,  laboring  under  a  popular  misapprehension. 
Could  the  editor  of  the  News  look  in  upon  us  as 


FOREIGN  OPINION. 


249 


we  pull  down  tome  after  tome  of  forgotten  lore 
in  our  study;  or,  with  a  glad  smile,  glance  hur- 
riedly over  the  postal  card  in  transit  through  our 
postoffice,  he  would  see,  not  as  he  supposes,  a  wild 
and  cruel  slayer  of  his  fellow  men,  but  a  thought- 
ful, scholarly  and  choice  fragment  of  modern 
architecture,  with  lines  of  care  about  the  firmly 
chiseled  mouth,  and  with  the  subdued  and  chast- 
ened air  of  a  man  who  has  run  for  the  legislature 
and  failed  to  get  there,  Eli. 

The  London  News  is  an  older  paper  than  ours, 
and  we  therefore  recognize  the  value  of  its  kind 
notice.  The  Boomerang  is  a  young  paper,  and 
has  therefore  only  begun  fairly  to  do  much  dam- 
age as  a  national  misfortune,  but  the  time  is  not 
far  distant,  when,  from  Greenland's  icy  mount- 
ains to  India's  coral  strand,  we  propose  to  search 
out  suffering  humanity  and  make  death  easier 
and  more  desirable,  by  introducing  this  choice 
malady. 

Eegarding  the  postoffice,  we  wish  to  state  that 
we  shall  aim  to  make  it  a  great  financial  success, 
and  furnish  mail  at  all  times  to  all  who  desire  it, 
whether  they  have  any  or  not.  We  shall  be 
pretty  busy,  of  course,  attending  to  the  office  dur- 
^  ing  the  day,  and  writing  scathing  editorials  dur- 
ing the  night,  but  we  will  try  to  snatch  a  moment 
now  and  then  to  write  a  few  letters  for  those  who 


250 


BALED  HAY. 


have  been  inquiring  sadly  and  hopelessly  for  let- 
ters during  the  past  ten  years.  It  is,  indeed,  a 
dark  and  dreary  world  to  the  man  who  has  looked 
in  at  the  same  general  delivery  window  nine 
times  a  day  for  ten  years,  and  yet  never  received 
a  letter,  nor  even  a  confidential  postal  card  from 
a  commercial  man,  stating  that  on  the  5th  of  the 
following  month  he  would  strike  the  town  with  a 
new  and  attractive  line  of  samples. 

"We  should  early  learn  to  find  out  such  suffer- 
ing as  that,  and  if  we  are  in  the  postofflce  depart- 
ment we  may  be  the  means  of  much  good  by 
putting  new  envelopes  on  oar  own  dunning  letters 
and  mailing  them  to  the  suffering  and  distressed. 
Let  us,  in  our  abundance,  remember  those  who 
have  not  been  dunned  for  many  a  weary  year. 
It  will  do  them  good,  and  we  will  not  feel  the  loss- 


THEY  HA  YE  CUEBED  THEIE 
WOE.  - 


rpHET  say  that  Brigham  Young's  grave  is 
looking  as  bare  and  desolate  as  a  boulevard 
now.  At  first,  while  her  grief  was  fresh,  his 
widow  used  to  march  out  there  five  abreast,  and 
just  naturally  deluge  the  grave  with  scalding 
tears,  and  at  that  time  the  green  grass  grew  luxu- 


THEY  HAVE  CURBED  THEIR  WOE. 


251 


riantly,  and  the  pig-weed  waved  in  the  soft  sum- 
mer air;  but  as  she  learned  to  control  her  emo- 
tions, the  humidity  of  the  atmosphere  disappeared, 
and  griefs  grand  irrigation  failed  to  give  down. 
We  should  learn  from  this  that  the  man  who  flat 
ters  himself  that  in  marrying  a  whole  precinct 
during  life,  he  is  piling  up  for  the  future  a  large 
invoice  of  ungovernable  woe,  is  liable  to  get  left. 
The  prophet's  tomb  looks  to-day  like  a  deserted 
buffalo  wallow,  while  his  widow  has  dried  her 
tears,  and  is  trying  to  make  a  mash  on  the  Utah 
commission.   Such  is  life  in  the  far  west,  and  such 
the  fitting  resting  place  of  a  red-headed  old  gal- 
vanized prophet,  who  marries  a  squint-eyed  fly-up- 
the-creek,  and  afterward  gets  a  special  revelation 
requiring  him  to  marry  a  female  mass-meeting. 
Let  us  be  thankful  for  what  w^e  have,  instead  of 
yearning  for  a  great  wealth  of  wife.    Then  the 
life  insurance  will  not  have  to  be  scattered  so,  and 
our  friends  will  be  spared  the  humiliating  spec- 
tacle of  a  bereft  and  sorrowing  herd  of  widow, 
turned  loose  by  the  cold  hand  of  death  to  monkey 
o'er  our  tomb. 


HUE"G  BY  BEQUEST. 


f  I  ^HIS  county  has  had  two  hemp  carnivals  dur- 
A-  ing  the  past  few  weeks,  and  it  begins  to  look 
like  old  times  again.  In  each  case  the  murder 
was  unprovoked,  and  the  victim  a  quiet  gentle- 
man. That  is  why  there  was  a  popular  feeling 
against  the  murderer,  and  a  spontaneous  rope- 
stretching  benefit  as  a  result.  While  we  deplore 
the  existence  of  a  state  of  affairs  that  would  war- 
rant these  little  expressions  of  feeling,  we  cannot 
come  right  out  and  condemn  the  exercises  which 
followed. 

The  more  Ave  read  the  political  record  of  the 
candidate  for  office,  as  set  forth  in  opposing  jour- 
nals, the  more  we  feel  that  there  are  already  few 
enough  good  men  in  this  country,  so  that  we  do 
not  care  to  spare  any  of  them.  If,  therefore,  the 
mischievous  bad  man  is  permitted  to  thin  them 
out  this  way,  the  day  is  not  distant  when  we  won't 
have  good  men  enough  to  run  the  newspapers,  to 
say  nothing  of  other  avocations. 

We  know  that  eastern  people  will  speak  of  us 
as  a  ferocious  tribe  on  the  Wyoming  reservation, 
but  we  desire  to  call  the  attention  of  our  more 
law-abiding  brethren  to  the  fact  that  there  has 
252 


HUNG  BY  REQUEST. 

been  in  the  past  year  a  lynching  in  almost  every 
state  in  the  Union,  to  say  nothing  of  several  hun- 
dred cases  where  there  should  have  been.  Do 
you  suppose  Wyoming  young  ladies  would  con- 
sent to  play  the  waltz  known  as  "Under  the 
Elms,"  composed  by  Walter  Malley,  if  Walter 
had  been  as  frolicsome  here  as  he  was  down  on 
the  Atlantic  coast?  Scarcely.  We  may  be  the 
sreatures  of  impulse  here,  but  not  that  kind  of 
impulse. 

Minneapolis  hung  a  man  during  the  past  year, 
and  so  did  Bloomington  and  other  high-toned 
towns,  and  shall  we,  because  we  are  poor  and 
lonely,  be  denied  this  poor  boon  \  We  hope  not. 
Because  we  have  left  the  East  and  moved  out  here 
to  make  some  money  and  build  up  a  new  country, 
shall  we  be  refused  the  privileges  we  would  have 
enjoyed  if  we  had  remained  in  the  states.  We 
trow  not. 

A  telegraph  pole  with  a  remains  hanging  on  it 
is  not  a  cheerful  sight,  but  it  has  a  tendency  to 
aiiroy  and  mentally  disturb  those  who  contem- 
plate the  violent  death  of  some  good  man.  It 
unnerves  the  brave  assassin  and  makes  him  rest- 
less and  apprehensive.  Death  is  always  depress- 
ing, but  it  is  doubly  so  when  it  has  that  purple 
and  suffocated  appearance  which  is  noticeable  in 
the  features  of  the  early  f all  fruit  of  the  telegraph 


254 


BALED  HAY. 


pole.  Lately,  we  will  state,  however,  the  tele- 
graph pole  has  fallen  into  disfavor,  and  is  not 
much  used,  owing  to  a  rumor  which  gained  circu- 
lation some  time  ago,  to  the  effect  that  Jay  Goul(* 
intended  to  charge  the  vigilance  committee  rent 


A  COLOKED  GrKEEK  SLA  YE. 


A  NUDE  colored  woman,  as  wild  as  a  gorilla, 
is  startling  the  people  of  the  Marvel  section 
of  Missouri.  She  has  been  seen  several  times,  and 
the  last  time  threw  a  young  lady,  who  was  horse- 
back riding,  into  hysteria,  and  with  a  grunt — not 
unlike  that  of  a  wild  hog — jumped  up  and  ran  into 
the  forest.  At  the  time  of  her  discovery  she  was 
burrowing  into  the  side  of  the  road,  catching  and 
eating  crawfish,  which  she  ate  claws,  hide  and  all. 
She  is  very  black,  and  foams  at  the  mouth  when 
angry,  like  a  wild  animal  at  bay.  She  is  probably 
a  colored  Greek  slave  in  search  of  an  umbrella 
and  the  remainder  of  her  wardrobe.  Still,  she 
may  be  a  brunette  society  belle,  who  went  in 
swimming  where  a  mud-turtle  caught  her  by  the 
pink  toe,  and  the  nervous  shock  has  unsettled  her 
mind. 


THE  MELVILLES. 


A  N  exchange  says  that  Mrs.  Melville  has  become 
XA_  deranged  through  excess  of  joy  over  the 
unexpected  return  of  her  husband.    Another  one 
says  that  it  is  thought  that  Lieutenant  Melville  is 
off  his  basement  as  a  result  of  exposure  to  the 
vigorous  and  bracing  air  of  the  north  pole.  Still 
another  says  that  Mr.  Melville  was  always  mean 
and  hateful  toward  his  wife,  and  that  w^hen  he 
was  at  home,  she  had  to  do  her  own  washing  and 
wind  the  clock  herself.   From  the  different  stories 
now  floating  about  relative  to  the  Melville  family, 
we  are  led  to  believe  that  he  is  a  kind  and  con- 
siderate husband,  pleasant  and  good-natured  to- 
ward his  wife — while  asleep;  and  that  she  is  a 
kind,  beautiful  and  accomplished  wife— when  she 
is  sober.    How  many  of  our  best  wives  are  falling 
victims  to  the  alcoholic  habit  recently !    How  sad 
to  think  that,  as  husbands,  we  will  soon  be  left  to 
wait  and  watch  and  vigil  through  the  long,  weary 
night  for  that  one  to  return  who  promised  us  on 
the  nuptial  day  that  she  would  protect  and  love 
us.    Ah,  what  a  silent,  but  seductive  foe  to  the 
husband  is  rum !    How  it  creeps  into  the  home 
circle  and  snatches  the  wife  in  the  full  blush  and 

255 


256 


BALED  HAY. 


bloom  of  womanhood,  while  the  pale,  sad- eyed 
husband  sits  at  the  sewing  machine  and  barely 
makes  enough  to  keep  the  little  ones  from  want. 

No  one  can  fully  realize,  but  he  who  has  been 
there,  so  to  speak,  the  terrible  shock  that  Mr.  Mel- 
ville received  on  the  first  evening  that  his  wife 
came  staggering  home.  No  one  can  tell  how  the 
pain  froze  his  throbbing  gizzard,  or  how  he  shud- 
dered in  the  darkness,  and  filled  the  pillow-sham 
full  of  sobs  when  he  first  knew  that  she  had  got 
it  up  her  nose.  Ah,  what  a  picture  of  woe  we  see 
before  us.  There  in  the  solemn  night,  robed  in  ?■ 
long,  plainly  constructed  garment  of  pure  white, 
buttoned  at  the  throat  in  a  negligent  manner, 
stands  Mr.  Melville  with  his  bare,  tall  brow  glist- 
ening in  the  flickering  rays  of  a  kerosene  lamp, 
which  he  holds  in  his  hand,  while  on  the  front 
porch  stands  the  wife  who  a  few  years  ago  prom- 
ised to  defend  and  protect  him.  She  is  a  little 
unsteady  on  her  feet,  and  her  hat  is  out  of  plumb. 
She  tries  to  be  facetious,  and  asks  him  if  that  is 
where  Mr.  Melville  lives.  He  looks  at  her  coldly  and 
says  it  is,  but  unfortunately  it  is  not  an  inebriate's 
home  and  refuge  for  the  budge  demolisher.  Then 
he  bursts  into  tears,  and  his  sobs  shake  the  entire 
ranch.    But  we  draw  a  curtain  over  the  scene. 

*  -K-  *  *  -Jf 

A  year  later  he  may  be  discovered  about  two 


MENDING  BROKEN  NECKS. 


257 


miles  southwest  of  the  north  pole.  Cool,  but 
happy.  He  is  trying  to  forget  his  woe.  He  smells 
like  sperm-oil  and  looks  like  a  bald-headed  sausage, 
but  the  woe  of  drink  is  forgotten: 

How  sad  that  he  has  returned  and  suffered 
again.  What  a  mistake  that  he  did  not  remain 
where,  instead  of  his  wife's  coolness,  he  would 
have  had  only  that  of  nature  to  contend  against. 


MENDING  BROKEN  KECKS. 


THEY  have  successfully  set  a  boy's  broken 
neck,  in  Connecticut,  and  now  it  looks  as 
though  the  only  way  to  kill  a  man  is  to  take  him 
about  200  miles  from  any  physician,  and  run  him 
through  a  Hoe  Perfecting  Press.  If  this  thing 
continues,  they  will  some  day  put  some  electricity 
into  Pharaoh's  daughter  and  engage  her  as  a 
ballet-dancer,  along  with  other  tender  pullets  of 
her  own  age. 


if 


AEE  YOU  A  MOKMOlsr? 


E  are  indebted  to  Elder  "Wilkins,  of  Logan, 
Utah,  first-assistant-general-tooly-muck-a- 
hi  Z.  C.  M.  I.  and  Z.  W.  of  T.  U.  O.  M.  and  B. 
company,  and  president  of  the  cache  stake  of 
Zion,  constituting  last  in  the  quorum  of  seventies, 
for  the  late  edition  of  the  Mormon  Guide  and 
Hand  Book  of  the  Endowment  House.  It  is  a^ 
very  pleasant  Avork  to  read,  and  makes  the  whole 
endowment  scheme  as  clear  to  the  average  mind 
as  though  he  had  been  through  it  personally. 

Pictures  of  the  endowment  chemiloon  and  Z.  C. 
M.  I.  bib  are  given  to  show  the  novice  exactly 
how  they  appear  to  the  unclothed  and  unre- 
generate  vision.  The  convert,  it  seems,  first  goes 
to  the  desk,  on  entering,  and  registers.  Then  she 
leaves  her  every-day  clothes  in  the  baggage  room 
and  gets  a  check  for  them.  The  next  thing  on 
the  programme  is  a  bath,  called  the  farewell  bath, 
because  it  is  the  last  one  taken  by  the  endow- 
ment victim. 

The  convert  is  then  anointed  with  machine  oil 
from  a  cow's  horn,  after  which  she  is  named 
something,  supposed  to  be  the  celestial  cognomen. 
Then  comes  the  endowment  robe,  which  is  a  com- 
258 


ARE  YOU  A  MORMON? 


259 


bination  arrangement  that  don't  look  pretty. 
After  that,  the  apprentice  to  polygamy  goes  into 
an  impromptu  garden  of  Eden,  where  the  apple 
business  is  gone  through  with.  A  thick-necked 
path-master  from  Logan  takes  the  character  of 
Adam,  and  a  pale-haired  livery  stable  keeper  from 
Salt  Lake  acts  as  the  ruler  of  the  universe.  This 
is  not  making  light  of  a  sacred  subject.  It  is  just 
the  simple,  plain,  horrible  truth. 


ELDER  DON  MIGUEL  CONNUBIALSON,  AS  ADAM, 
In  his  great  moral  drama,  known  as  the  "  Fall  of  Man,"  played 
with  such  unequaled  success  at  the  Mormon  Endowment  House. 
Drawn  by  the  Gentile  author  of  this  work. 

The  creation  of  the  world  is  thus  gone  through 
with  by  these  blatant  priests  of  Latter  Day  bogus 
sanctity,  and  the  exercises  are  continued  after  this 


260 


BALED  HAY. 


fashion  through  all  their  disgusting  details.  We 
have  no  time  or  inclination  to  enlarge  upon  them. 
Truth  is  sometimes  nauseating,  especially  while 
discussing  the  Mormon  problem. 

If  Brigham  Young  had  lived,  he  would  have 
helped  out  his  church  by  a  revelation  that  would 
have  knocked  the  daylights  out  of  polygamy ;  but 
as  it  is  now,  John  Taylor,  with  his  characteristic 
stubborness,  will  not  attend  to  it,  his  revelation 
machine  being  somewhat  out  of  whack,  as  Oscar 
Wilde  would  say,  so  that  the  anointing  with  the 
so-called  sanctified  lubricant  will  continue  till  the 
United  States  sits  down  on  the  whole  grand  farce. 


OATJTIOK 


A MAN  is  going  about  the  streets  of  Laramie 
claiming  to  be  John  the  Baptist.  He  has 
light  hair  and  chin  whiskers,  is  stout  built  and 
looks  like  a  farmer.  We  desire  to  warn  those  of 
our  readers  who  may  be  inclined  to  trust  him,  that 
he  is  not  what  he  purports  to  be.  We  have  taken 
great  pains  to  look  the  matter  up,  and  find,  as  a 
result  of  our  research,  that  John  the  Baptist  is 
dead. 


A  BLOW  TO  THE  GOVEK^MEOT. 


T  the  October  term  of  the  district  court  we 


JL-L-  shall  resign  the  office  of  United  States  Com- 
missioner for  this  judicial  district,  an  office  which 
we  have  held  so  long,  and  with  such  great  credit 
to  ourself.  Fearing  that  in  the  hurry  and  rush 
of  other  business  our  contemporaries  might  over- 
look the  matter,  we  have  consented  to  mention, 
briefly,  the  fact  that  at  the  opening  of  court, 
Judge  Blair  will  be  called  upon  to  accept  the 
resignation  of  one  of  our  most  tried  and  true  offi- 
cials,  who  has  for  so  long  held  up  this  corner  of 
the  great  national  fabric. 

It  has  been  our  solemn  duty  to  examine  the 
greaser  who  sold  liquor  to  our  red  brother,  and 
filled  him  up  with  the  deadly  juice  of  the  sour- 
mash  tree.  It  has  devolved  upon  us  to  singe  the 
soft-eyed  lad  who  stole  baled  hay  from  the  reser- 
vation, and  it  has  also  been  our  glorious  privilege 
to  examine,  in  a  preliminary  manner,  the  absent- 
minded  party  who  gathered  unto  himself  the  U.  S. 
mule. 

We  have  attempted  to  resign  before,  but  failed. 
One  reason  was,  that  it  was  a  novel  proceeding  in 
Wyoming,  and  no  one  seemed  to  know  how  to  go 


261 


262 


BALED  HAY. 


to  work  at  it.  No  one.  had  ever  resigned  before, 
and  the  matter  had  to  be  hunted  up  and  the  law 
thoroughly  understood. 

The  office  is  one  of  great  profit,  as  we  have  said 
before.  It  brings  wealth  into  the  coffers  of  the 
U.  S.  Commissioner  in  a  way  that  is  well  calcu- 
lated to  turn  the  head  of  most  people.  We  have, 
however,  succeeded  in  controlling  ourself,  and 
have  so  far  suppressed  that  beastly  pride  which 
wealth  engenders.  With  a  salary  of  $7.25  per 
annum,  and  lead  pencils,  we  have  steadily  refused 
to  go  to  Europe,  preferring  rather  to  plod  along 
here  in  the  wild  west,  although  we  may  never  see 
the  beauties  of  a  foreign  shore. 

Official  duty  was  at  all  times  weighing  upon 
our  mind  like  a  leaden  load.  Oft  in  the  stilly 
night  we  have  been  wakened  by  the  oppressing 
thought  that,  perhaps  at  that  moment,  on  some 
distant  reservation,  some  pale-faced  villain  might 
be  selling  valley-tan  to  the  gentle,  untutored 
Indian  brave,  and  it  has  tortured  us  and  robbed 
us  of  slumber  and  joy.  Now  it  is  a  relief  to  know 
that  very  soon  we  shall  be  free  from  this  great 
responsibility.  If  an  Indian  gets  drunk  on  the 
reservation,  or  a  time-honored  government  mule 
is  stolen,  we  shall  not  be  expected  to  get  up  in  the 
night  and  administer  swift  and  terrible  justice  ttf 
the  offender.    Old-man-with-a-torpid-liver  can  g& 


A  BLOW  TO  THE  GOVERNMENT. 


263 


as  drunk  as  he  pleases  on  the  reservation.  It  does 
not  come  under  our  jurisdiction  any  more.  We 
can  sleep  now  nights  while  some  other  man  peels 
his  coat,  and  acts  as  the  United  States  nemesis  for 
this  diocese. 

Sometime  during  the  ensuing  week  we  will  turn 
over  the  lead  pencil  and  the  blotting  paper  of  the 
office  to  our  successor.  We  leave  the  Indian  tem- 
perance movement  in  his  hands.  The  United 
States  mule,  kleptomaniac  also,  we  leave  with  him. 
With  a  clear  conscience  and  an  unliquidated  claim 
against  the  government  for  $9.55,  the  earnings  of 
the  past  two  years,  we  turn  over  the  office,  know- 
ing that  although  we  have  sacrificed  our  health, 
we  have  never  evaded  our  duty,  no  matter  how 
dangerous  or  disagreeable. 

Yet  we  do  not  ask  for  any  gold-headed  cane  as 
i  mark  of  esteem  on  the  part  of  the  government. 
We  have  a  watch  that  does  very  well  for  us,  so 
ihat  a  testimonial  consisting  of  a  gold  watch,  cost- 
ng  $250,  would  be  unnecessary.  Any  little  trinket 
>f  that  kind  would,  of  course,  show  how  ready  the 
department  of  justice  is  to  appreciate  the  work  of 
an  efficient  officer,  but  we  do  not  look  for  it,  nor 
^isk  it.  A  thoroughly  fumigated  and  disinfected 
conscience  is  all  we  want.  That  is  enough  for  us. 
Do  not  call  out  the  band.  Just  let  us  retire  from 
■ihe  office  quietly  and  unostentatiously.  As  regards 


264 


BALED  HAT. 


the  United  States  Coramissionership,  we  retire  to 
private  life.  In  the  bosom  of  our  family  we  will 
forget  the  turbulent  voyage  of  official  life  through 
which  we  have  passed,  and  as  we  monkey  with 
the  children  around  our  hearthstone,  we  will  shut 
our  eyes  to  the  official  suffering  that  is  going  on 
on  all  around  us. 


POISONS  AND  THEIR  ANEC- 
DOTES. 


AN  amateur  scientist  sends  us  a  long  article 
-  written  with  a  purple  pencil  on  both  sides  of 
twelve  sheets  of  legal  cap,  and  entitled  "  Poisons 
and  Their  Anecdotes."  Will  the  soft-eyed  mullet- 
head  please  call  and  get  it,  also  a  lick  over  the 
eye  with  a  hot  stove  leg,  and  greatly  oblige  the 
weary  throbbing  brain  that,  moulds  the  scientific 
course  of  this  paper  ? 


COKBESPONDENCE. 


Cheyenne,  Septemher  6,  1882. 

THE  party,  consisting  of  Governor  Hale  and 
wife,  Secretary  Morgan  and  wife,  President 
Slack,  of  the  Wyoming  Press  Association,  and 
wife,  Mr.  Baird  and  myself,  started  out  of  Lar- 
amie, about  8:30  last  evening,  and  excurted  along 
over  the  hill  with  some  hesitation,  arriving  here 
this  morning  at  four  o'clock.    The  engine  at  first 
slipped  an  eccentric  on  Dale  Creek  bridge,  and 
we  remained  there  some  time,  delayed  but  happy. 
Then,  as  the  night  wore  away  and  the  gray  dawn 
came  down  over  the  broad  and  mellow  sweep  of 
plain  to  the  eastward,  an  engine  ahead  of  us  on  a 
freight  train  blew  off  her  monkey-wrench,  and  we 
were  delayed  in  the  neighborhood  of  Hazzard  sev- 
eral more  hours.    Hazzard  is  a  thriving  town  on 
the  eastern  slope  of  the  mountains,  with  glorious 
possibilities  for  a  town  site.    "With  gas  and  water- 
works and  a  city  debt  of  $200,000,  Hazzard  will 
some  day  attract  notice  from  the  civilized  world. 
If  her  vast  deposits  of  sand  and  alkali  could  be 
brought  to  the  notice  of  capital,  Hazzard  would 
some  day  take  rank  with  such  cities  as  Wilcox 
and  Tie  City. 


266 


BALED  HAY. 


Still  we  had  a  good  deal  of  fun.  We  heard 
that  Whitelaw  Keid,  of  the  New  York  Tribune, 
was  on  board,  and  we  sent  the  porter  into  the 
other  car  after  him.  Mr.  Eeid  did  not  behave  as 
we  thought  he  would  at  first.  We  had  presumed 
that  he  was  cold  and  distant  in  his  manners,  but 
he  is  not.  As  soon  as  the  first  embarrassment  of 
meeting  us  was  over,  he  sailed  right  in  and  did  all 
the  talking  himself,  just  as  any  cultivated  gentle- 
man would.  He  told  us  all  about  New  York 
politics  and  how  he  was  fighting  the  machine,  at 
the  same  time,  however,  casually  dropping  a  re- 
mark or  two  that  led  us  to  conclude  that  it  was 
only  one  machine  that  didn't  want  another  one  to 
win.  He  is  a  tall,  rather  fine-looking  man,  with 
X  Grecian  nose  and  long,  dark  hair,  which  he  does 
ap  in  tin  foil  at  night.  I  told  him  that  I  was 
grieved  to  know  that  his  hired  .man  had,  inad- 
vertently no  doubt,  referred  to  me  in  a  manner 
that  gave  the  American  people  an  idea  that  I  was 
a  good  deal  bigger  man  than  I  really  was.  I 
asked  him  whether  he  wanted  to  apologize  then 
and  there  or  be  thrown  over  Dale  Creek  bridge 
into  the  rip-snorting  torrent  below. 

He  said  he  didn't  believe  that  such  a  remark 
had  been  made,  but  if  it  had  he  would  go  home 
and  kill  the  man  who  wrote  it,  if  that  would  poul- 
tice up  my  wounded  heart.    I  said  it  would.  If 


CORRESPONDENCE. 


267 


lie  would  just  mail  me  the  remains  of  the  man 
who  made  the  remark,  not  necessarily  for  publi- 
cation, but  as  a  guarantee  of  good  faith,  it  would 
be  all  right. 

We  talked  all  night,  and  incurred  the  everlast- 
ing displeasure  of  a  fat  man  from  San  Francisco, 
who  told  the  porter  he  wanted  his  money  back 
because  he  hadn't  slept  any  all  night.    He  seemed 
mad  because  we  were  having  a  little  harmless 
conversation  among  ourselves,  and  when  the  clock 
in  the  steeple  struck  four  he  rolled  over  in  his 
berth,  gave  a  large  groan  and  then  got  up  and 
dressed.    Some  people  are  so  morbidly  nervous 
that  they  cannot  sleep  on  a  train,  and  they 
naturally  get  cross  and  say  ungentlemanly  things. 
This  man  said  some  things  while  he  was  dressing 
and  buttoning  his  suspenders,  that  made  my 
blood  run  cold.    A  man  who  has  no  better  con- 
trol of  his  temper  than  that,  ought  not  to  travel 
at  all.    He  just  simply  makes  a  North  American 
side-show  of  himself. 

Cheyenne  is  very  greatly  improved  since  I  was 
here  last.  The  building  up  of  the  corner  opposite 
the  Inter  Ocean  hotel  has  added  greatly  to  the 
attractiveness  of  the  Magic  City,  and  other  work 
is  being  done  which  enhances  the  beauty  of  the 
city  very  much.  F.  E.  Warren  is  one  of  the 
most  enterprising  and  thoroughly  vigorous  west- 


268 


BALED  HAY. 


era  business  men  I  ever  knew.  He  is  an  anomaly, 
I  might  say.  When  I  say  lie  is  an  anomaly,  I 
do  not  mean  to  reflect  upon  him  in  any  way. 
though  I  do  not  know  the  meaning  of  the  word. 
I  simply  mean  that  he  is  the  chief  grand  rustle  of 
a  very  rustling  city. 


WHAT  THE  DEMOCRATIC 
PAETY  isTEEDS. 


rpHE  candidate  for  county  commissioner,  on 
-A-  the  Democratic  ticket,  of  Sweetwater  county, 
keeps  a  drug  store,  and  when  a  little  girl  burned 
her  arm  against  the  cook  stove,  and  her  father 
went  after  a  package  of  Eussia  salve,  the  genial 
Bourbon  gave  her  a  box  of  "Bough  on  Eats.-' 
What  the  Democratic  party  needs,  is  not  so  much 
a  new  platform,  but  a  carload  of  assorted  brains 
that  some  female  seminary  had  left  over. 


A  LETTER  FROM  LEADVILLE. 


Leadyille,  Colorado,  Sept.  10. 

THIS  morning  we  rose  at  4:30,  and  rode  from 
Buena  Yista  to  Leadville,  arriving  at  the 
Clarendon  for  breakfast.  Our  party  has  been 
reduced  in  one  way  and  another  until  there  are 
only  eight  here  to-day.  Secretary  Morgan  and 
family  remained  at  Buena  Vista  on  account  of  the 
illness  of  Miss,  Lillie  Morgan,  who  suffers  severely 
from  sea-sickness  on  the  mountain  railroads. 

One  thing  I  have  not  mentioned,  and  an  inci- 
dent certainly  worthy  of  note,  was  the  sudden 
decision  of  our  president,  E.  A.  Slack,  on  Friday, 
to  remain  at  a  little  station  on  the  South  Park 
road,  above  Como,  while  the  party  continued  on 
to  Buena  Vista.  Mr.  Slack  is  a  man  of  iron  will 
and  sudden  impulses,  as  all  who  know  him  are 
aware.  He  got  in  a  car  at  the  station  referred  to, 
and  under  the  impression  that  it  belonged  to  our 
train,  remained  in  it  till  he  got  impatient  about 
something,  and  asked  a  man  who  came  in  with  a 
broom,  why  we  were  making  such  a  stop  at  that 
station.  The  man  said  that  this  car  had  been 
side-tracked,  and  the  train  had  gone  some  time  ago. 
'  Then  Mr.  Slack  made  the  rash  remark  that  he 
269 


270 


BALED  HAY. 


would  remain  there  until  the  next  train.  He  acts 
readily  in  an  emergency,  and  he  saw  at  a  glance 
that  the  best  thing  that  he  could  do  would  be  to 
just  stay  there,  and  examine  the  country  until  he 
could  get  the  next  train.  He  telegraphed  us  that 
the  fare  was  so  high  on  our  train  that  he  would 
see  if  he  couldn't  get  better  rates  on  the  following 
day.  In  the  meantime,  he  struck  Superintendent 
Egbert's  special  car,  and  rode  around  over  the 
country  till  morning,  while  our  party  took  in 
Buena  Vista.  The  city  is  but  two  years  old,  but 
very  thriving,  and  has  2.500  to  3,000  population. 
At  the  depot  we  were  met  by  Agent  Smith,  of 
the  South  Park  road,  who  had  secured  rooms  for 
us  at  the  Grand  Park  hotel.  He  had  also  arrano-ed 
for  carriages  to  take  us  out  to  Cottonwood  Hot 
Springs,  about  six  miles  up  Cottonwood  creek, 
where  we  took  supper.  We  found  a  first-class 
sixty-four  room  hotel  there,  with  hot  baths,  and 
everything  comfortable  and  neat.  The  proprie- 
tors are  Messrs.  Stafford  and  Hartenstein — the 
latter  having  been  a  medical  student  under  Dr. 
Agnew.  After  a  good -supper  we  returned  to 
Buena  Vista,  where  the  home  military  company, 
under  Captain  Johnson,  led  by  the  Buena  Yista 
band,  serenaded  us.  I  responded  in  a  brief  but 
telling  speech,  which  I  would  give  here  if  I  had 
not  forgotten  what  it  was.    Some  of  the  other 


A  LETTER  FROM  LEADVILLE. 


271 


members  of  the  party  wanted  to  make  the  speech, 
but  I  said  no,  it  would  not  be  right.  I  was  rep- 
resenting the  president,  Mr.  Slack,  and  wearing 
his  overcoat,  and  therefore  it  would  devolve  on 
me  to  make  the  grand  opening  remarks.  It  was 
the  greatest  effort  of  my  life,  and  town  lots  in 
Buena  Yista  depreciated  fifty  per  cent. 

We  found  A.  D.  Butler,  formerly  of  Cheyenne, 
now  at  Buena  Vista,  also  Tom  Campbell,  well 
known  to  Laramie  people,  doing  well  at  the  new 
city,  and  a  prospective  member  of  the  Colorado 
legislature.  George  Marion,  formerly  of  Laramie, 
is  also  at  Buena  Yista,  engaged  in  the  retail  bridge 
trade.  We  also  met  Messrs.  Leonard,  of  the  Times, 
and  Kennedy,  of  the  Herald,  who  treated  us  the 
whitest  kind.  Mr.  Leonard  and  wife  went  with 
us  yesterday  over  to  Gunnison  City.  Billy  Butler, 
formerly  of  Laramie,  is  now  at  Buena  Yista,  suc- 
cessfully engaged  in  mining. 

Yesterday  we  put  in  the  most  happy  da3r  of  the 
entire  trip.  Under  the  very  kind  and  thoughtful 
guidance  of  Superintendent  E.  Wilbur,  of  the 
Gunnison  division  of  the  South  Park  road,  we 
went  over  the  mountain  to  Gunnison  and  through 
the  wonderful  Alpine  tunnel,  the  highest  railroad 
point  in  the  United  States,  and  with  its  approaches 
2,600  feet  long.  When  you  pass  through  the  tun- 
nel the  brakeman  makes  you  close  your  window 


272 


BALED  HAT. 


and  take  in  your  head.  He  does  this  for  two 
reasons :  first,  you  can't  see  anything  if  you  look 
out,  and  secondly,  the  company  don't  like  to  hire 
an  extra  man  to  go  through  the  tunnel  twice  a 
day  and  wipe  the  remains  of  tourists  off  the  walls. 

The  newsboy  told  me  that  a  tourist  from  Phila- 
delphia once  tried  to  wipe  his  nose  on  the  Alpine 
tunnel,  while  the  train  was  in  motion,  and  when 
they  got  through  into  daylight,  and  his  compan- 
ions told  him  to  take  in  his  head,  he  couldn't  do 
it — because  it  was  half  a  mile  behind  examining 
the  formation  of  the  tunnel.  Later,  it  was  found 
that  the  man  was  dead.  The  passengers  said  that 
they  noticed  a  kind  of  crunching  noise  while  going 
through  the  tunnel  that  sounded  like  the  smash- 
ing of  false  teeth,  but  they  paid  no  attention  to  it. 

Mr.  Wilbur  afterward  told  me  that  there  had 
never  been  a  passenger  killed  on  the  road,  sol 
may  have  been  misled  by  this  newsboy.  Still,  he 
didn't  look  like  a  boy  who  would  trifle  with  a 
man's  feelings  in  that  way. 

However,  I  will  leave  the  remainder  of  the 
Gunnison  trip  for  another  letter,  as  this  is  already 
too  long. 


TABLE  MAKKEKS  OF  OHILDEEK 


YOUNG  children  who  have  to  wait  till  older 
people  have  eaten  all  there  is  in  the  house, 
should  not  open  the  dining-room  door  during  the 
me^il  and  ask  the  host  if  he  is  going  to  eat  all  day. 
It  makes  the  company  feel  ill  at  ease,  and  lays  up 
wrath  in  the  parents'  heart. 

Children  should  not  appear  displeased  with  the 
regular  courses  at  dinner,  and  then  fill  up  on  pie. 
Eat  the  less  expensive  food  first,  and  then  organize 
a  picnic  in  the  preserves  afterward. 

Do  not  close  out  the  last  of  your  soup  by  taking 
the  plate  in  your  mouth  and  pouring  the  liquid 
down  your  childish  neck.  You  might  spill  it  on 
your  bosom,  and  it  enlarges  and  distorts  the  mouth 
unnecessarily. 

When  asked  what  part  of  the  fowl  you  prefer, 
do  not  say  you  will  take  the  part  that  goes  over 
the  fence  last.  This  remark  is  very  humorous, 
but  the  rising  generation  ought  to  originate  some 
new  table  jokes  that  will  be  worthy  of  the  age  in 
which  we  live. 

Children  should  early  learn  the  use  of  the  fork, 
and  how  to  handle  it.    This  knowledge  can  be 
acquired  by  allowing  them  to  pry  up  the  carpet 
18  273 


27  i 


BALED  HAY. 


tacks  with  this  instrument,  and  other  little  exer- 
cises, such,  as  the  parent  mind  may  suggest 

The  child  should  be  taught  at  once  not  to  wave 
his  bread  around  over  the  table,  while  in  conver- 
sation, or  to  fill  his  mouth  full  of  potatoes,  and 
then  converse  in  a  rich  tone  of  voice  with  some 
one  out  in  the  yard.  He  might  get  his  dinner 
down  his  trochea  and  cause  his  parents  great 
anxiety. 

In  picking  up  a  plate  or  saucer  filled  with  soup 
or  with  moist  food,  the  child  should  be  taught  not 
to  parboil  his  thumb  in  the  contents  of  the  dish, 
and  to  avoid  swallowing  soup  bones  or  other  indi- 
gestible debris. 

Toothpicks  are  generally  the  last  course,  and 
children  should  not  be  permitted  to  pick  their 
teeth  and  kick  the  table  through  the  other  exer- 
cises. While  grace  is  being  said  at  table,  children 
should  know  that  it  is  a  breach  of  good  breeding 
to  smouge  fruit  cake  just  because  their  parents' 
heads  are  bowed  down,  and  their  attention  for 
the  moment  turned  in  another  direction.  Children 
ought  not  to  be  permitted  to  find  fault  with  the 
dinner,  or  fool  with  the  cat  while  they  are  eating. 
Boys  should,  before  going  to  the  table,  empty  all 
the  frogs  and  grasshoppers  put  of  their  pockets, 
or  those  insects  might  crawl  out  during  the  festiv- 
ities, and  jump  into  the  gravy. 


TABLE  MANNERS  OF  CHILDREN.  275 


If  a  fly  wades  into  your  jelly  up  to  his  gamb- 
rels,  do  not  mash  him  with  your  spoon  before  all 
the  guests,  as  death  is  at  all  times  depressing  to 
those  who  are  at  dinner,  and  retards  digestion. 
Take  the  fly  out  carefully,  with  what  naturally 
adheres  to  his  person,  and  wipe  him  on  the  table 
cloth.  It  will  demonstrate  your  perfect  command 
of  yourself,  and  afford  much  amusement  for  the 
company.  Do  not  stand  up  in  your  chair  and  try 
to  spear  a  roll  with  your  fork.  It  is  not  good 
manners  to  do  so,  and  you  might  slip  and  bust 
your  crust,  by  so  doing.  Say  "thank  you,"  and 
"much  obliged,"  and  "beg  pardon,"  wherever  you 
can  work  in  these  remarks,  as  it  throws  people  off 
their  guard,  and  gives  you  an  opportunity  to  get 
in  your  work  on  the  pastry  and  other  bric-a-brac 
near  you  at  the  time. 


WHAT  IT  MEANT. 


HEN  Billy  Root  was  a  little  boy,  he  was  of 
a  philosophical  and  investigating  turn  of 
mind,  and  wanted  to  know  almost  everything. 
He  also  desired  to  know  it  immediately.  He 
could  not  wait  for  time  to  develop  his  intellect, 
but  he  crowded  things  and  wore  out  the  patience 
of  his  father,  a  learned  savant,  who  was  president 
of  a  livery  stable  in  Chicago. 

One  day  Billy  ran  across  the  grand  hailing 
sign,  which  is  generally  represented  as  a  tape- 
worm in  the  beak  of  the  American  eagle,  on 
which  is  inscribed  "E  Pluribus  Unum."  Billy,  of 
course,  asked  his  father  what  "E  Pluribus 
Unum"  meant.  He  wanted  to  gather  in  all  the 
knowledge  he  could,  so  that  when  he  came  out 
west  he  could  associate  with  some  of  our  best 
men. 

"  I  admire  your  strong  appetite  for  knowledge, 
Billy,"  said  Mr.  Root;  "you  have  a  morbid  crav- 
ing for  cold  hunks  of  ancient  history  and  cyclo- 
pedia that  does  my  soul  good ;  and  I  am  glad,  too, 
that  you  come  to  your  father  to  get  accurate  data 
for  your  collection.  That  is  right.  Your  father 
will  always  lay  aside  his  work  at  any  time  and 
276 


OUB  GREAT  NATIONAL  MOTTO. 


VOTERS  IN  UTAH. 


279 


gorge  your  young  mind  with  knowledge  that  will 
be  as  useful  to  you  as  a  farrow  cow.  'E  Pluri- 
bus  Unum'  is  an  old  Greek  inscription  that  has 
been  handed  down  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion, preserved  in  brine,  and  signifies* that  'the 
tail  goes  with  the  hide.' " 


YOTEES  IN  UTAH. 


THIS  is  the  form  of  the  oath  required  of  voters 
in  Utah  under  the  new  law : 

Territory  of  Utah,  ) 
County  of  Salt  Lake.  J  * 

I   5  being  first  duly  sworn  (or  affirmed), 

depose  and  say  that  I  am  over  twenty-one  years  of 
age,  and  have  resided  in  the  territory  of  Utah  for  six 

months,  and  in  the  precinct  of  one  month 

immediately  preceding  the  date  thereof,  and  (if  a 
male)  am  a  native  born  or  naturalized  (as  the  case 
may  be)  citizen  of  the  United  States  and  a  tax 
payer  in  this  territory.  (Or,  if  a  female)  I  am 
native  born,  or  naturalized,  or  the  widow  or 
daughter  (as  the  case  may  be)  of  a  native  born  or 
naturalized  citizen  of  the  United  States.  And  I  do 
further  solemnly  swear  (or  affirm)  that  I  am  not 
a  bigamist  or  polygamist;  that  I  am  not  a 
violater  of  the  laws  of  the  United  States  prohibit- 


280 


BALED  HAY. 


ing  bigamy  or  polygamy;  that  I  do  not  live  or 
cohabit  with  more  than  one  woman  in  the  mar- 
riage relation,  nor  does  any  relation  exist  between 
me  and  any  woman  which  has  been  entered  into 
or  continued  in  violation  of  said  laws  of  the 
United  States,  prohibiting  bigamy  or  polygamy, 
(and  if  a  woman)  that  I  am  not  the  wife  of  a 
polygamist,  nor  have  I  entered  into  any  relation 
with  any  man  in  violation  of  the  laws  of  the 
United  States  concerning  polygamy  or  bigamy. 

Subscribed  and  sworn  to  before  me  this —  

day  of  ,  1882. 


Kegistration  Officer  Precinct. 

It  will  be  seen  that  at  the  next  election  some  of 
the  brethren  and  sisters  in  Zion  will  be  disfran- 
chised unless  they  do  some  pretty  tall  swearing. 
This  is  a  terrible  state  of  affairs,  and  the  whole 
civilized  world  will  feel  badly  to  know  that  some 
of  our  people  are  going  to  be  left  out  in  the  cold, 
cold  world  with  no  voice  and  no  vote  just  because 
they  have  been  too  zealous  in  the  wedlock 
business. 

Matrimony  is  a  glorious  thing,  but  it  can  be 
overdone.  A  man  can  become  a  victim  to  the 
nuptial  habit  just  the  same  as  he  can  the  opium 
habit.  It  then  assumes  entire  control  over  him, 
and  he  has  to  be  chained  up  or  paralyzed  with  a 


VOTERS  IN  UTAL, 


281 


club,  or  he  would  marry  all  creation.  This  law, 
therefore,  is  salutary  in  its  operations.  It  is 
intended  as  a  gentle  check  on  those  who  have 
allowed  themselves  to  become  matrimony's 
maniacs.  If  we  marry  one  of  the  daughters  of  a 
family,  and  are  happy  over  it,  is  that  any  rea- 
son why  we  should  marry  the  other  daughters 
and  the  old  lady  and  the  colored  cook?  We 
think  not.  It  is  natural  for  man  to  acquire  rail- 
roads and  promissory  notes  and  houses  and  lands, 
but  he  should  not  undertake  to  acquire  a  corner 
on  the  wife  trade. 

Hence  we  say  the  law  is  just  and  must  be  per- 
mitted to  take  its  course,  even  though  it  may  dis- 
franchise many  of  the  most  prominent  pelicans 
of  the  Mormon  church.  Matrimony  in  Utah  has 
been  allowed  to  run  riot,"  as  it  were.  The  cruel 
and  relentless  hand  of  this  hydra-headed  monster 
has  been  laid  upon  the  youngest  and  the  fairest 
of  the  Mormon  people. 

Matrimony  has  broken  out  there  in  a  large 
family  in  some  instances,  and  has  not  even  spared 
the  widowed  and  toothless  mother.  It  generally 
seeks  its  prey  among  the  youngest  and  fairest, 
but  in  Utah  it  has  not  spared  even  the  old  and  the 
infirm.  Like  a  cruel  epidemic,  it  has  at  first 
raked  in  the  blooming  maidens  of  Mormondom 
and  at  last  spotted  the  lantern  jawed  dregs  of  for~ 


282 


BALED  HAY. 


eign  female  emigration.  In  one  community,  this 
great  scourge  entered  and  took  all  the  women 
under  forty-five,  and  then  got  into  a  block  where 
there  were  nineteen  old  women  who  didn't 
average  a  tooth  apiece,  and  swept  them  away  like 
a  cyclone. 

People  who  do  not  know  anything  of  this  great 
evil,  can  have  no  knowledge  of  it.  Those  who 
have  not  investigated  this  question  have  certainly 
failed  to  look  into  it.  We  cannot  find  out  about 
this  question  without  ascertaining  something  of  it. 


nrcOETGHUITY. 


OUK  attention  has  been  called  recently  to  an 
illustration  by  Hopkins  in  a  work  called 
Forty  Liars,  in  which  a  miner  is  represented  as 
sliding  down  a  mountain  in  a  gold  pan  with  a 
handle  on  it.  Mr.  Hopkins,  no  doubt,  labors  under 
a  wrong  impression  of  some  kind,  relative  to  the 
gold  pan.  He  seems  to  consider  the  gold  pan  and 
the  frying  pan  as  synonymous.  In  this  he  is 
wrong. 

The  gold  pan  is  a  large  low  pan  without  a 
handle  and  made  of  very  different  metal  from  a 
skillet  or  frying  pan* 


INCONGRUITY. 


283 


The  artist  should  study  as  far  as  possible  to 
imitate  nature  and  not  make  a  fool  of  himself. 
Some  artists  consider  it  funny  to  represent  a 
farmer  milking  a  cow  on  the  wrong  side.  They 
also  show  the  same  farmer,  later  on,  plowing  with 
a  plow  that  turns  the  furrow  over  to  the  left, 
another  eccentricity  of  genius.  There  are  many 
little  things  like  this  that  the  artist  should  look 
into  more  closely  so  as  not  to  bust  up  the  eternal 
fitness  of  things. 

We  presume  that  Mr  Hopkins  would  represent 
a  gang  of  miners  working  a  placer  with  giant 
powder  and  washing  out  smelting  ore  in  a  tin 
dipper.  Its  pretty  hard,  though,  for  an  artist 
who  never  saw  a  mining  camp,  to  sit  and  watch  a 
New  York  beer  tournament  and  draw  pictures  of 
life  in  a  mining  camp,  and  people  ought  not  to 
expect  too  much. 


BIDING  DOWN  A  MOMTAIK 

0 

GUNNISON  CITY  is  one  of  the  peculiarities 
of  a  mining  boom.  It  spreads  out  and  slops 
over  the  plain  like  a  huge  camp  meeting,  but  with- 
out shape  or  beauty. 

The  plains  there  are  red  and  sandy ;  the  trees 
are  not  nearer  than  the  foot-hills ;  and  the  city, 
which  claims  5,000  inhabitants,  though  3,000 
would,  no  doubt,  be  more  accurate,  is  composed  of 
a  wide  area  of  ground,  with  scattering  houses  that 
look  lonely  in  the  midst  of  the  desolation.  Mining 
in  Colorado,  this  season,  has  not  advanced  with 
the  wonderful  impetus  which  characterized  it  in 
previous  years.  Wherever  you  go,  you  hear  first 
one  reason,  and  then  another,  why  good  mines 
are  not  being  worked.  There  is  trouble  among 
the  stock-holders ;  a  game  of  freeze  out ;  lack  of 
capital  to  put  in  proper  machinery,  or  excessive 
railroad  freights,  to  pay  which  virtually  paralyzes 
the  reduction  of  ore  owned  by  men  too  poor  to 
erect  the  expensive  works  necessary  to  the  reali- 
zation of  profit  from  the  mines. 

Keturning  from  Gunnison  City,  now,  you  rise 
at  a  rate  of  over  200  feet  to  the  mile,  zig-zagging 
up  the  almost  perpendicular  mountain,  near  Jbhe 
284 


RIDING  DOWN  A  MOUNTAIN.      ,  285 

summit  of  which  is  the  Alpine  tunnel.  As  you 
near  the  tunnel,  there  is  a  perpendicular  and  some- 
times even  a  jutting  wall  above  you,  hundreds  of 
feet  at  your  right,  while  far  below  you,  on  your 
left,  is  a  yellow  streak,  which  at  first  you  take  to 
be  an  old  mountain  trail,  but  which  you  soon  dis- 
cover is  the  circuitous  track  over  which  you  have 
just  come. 

Near  here,  while  the  road  was  being  built,  a 
fine  span  of  horses  balked  on  the  grade,  and  like 
all  balky  horses,  proceeded  to  back  off  the  road. 
The  owner  got  out  of  the  wagon,  and  told  them 
they  could  keep  that  thing  up  if  they  wanted  to, 
but  he  could  not  endorse  their  policy.  They  kept 
backing  off  until  the  wagon  went  over  the  brink, 
and  then  there  was  a  little  scratching  of  loose 
stones,  the  kaleidoscope  of  legs  and  hoofs,  a  little 
rush  and  rumble,  and  the  world  was  wealthier  by 
one  less  balky  team.  The  owner  never  went  down 
to  see  where  they  went  to,  or  how  they  lit.  He 
was  afraid  they  would  not  survive  their  injuries, 
so  he  did  not  go  down  there.  Later,  the  carrion 
crows  and  turkey  buzzards  indicated  where  the 
refractory  team  had  landed;  and  deep  in  the 
mountain  gorge  the  white  bones  lie  amid  the 
wreck  of  a  lumber  wagon,  as  monuments  of 
equine  folly. 

On  Saturday  evening  we  had  the  pleasure  of 


286 


BALED  HAY. 


riding  down  the  dizzy  grade  from  Hancock,  a 
distance  of  eighteen  miles,  at  which  time  we 
descended  a  mile  perpendicularly  in  a  push  car, 
with  Superintendent  Wilbur  as  conductor  and 
engineer.  A  push  car  is  a  plain  flat-car,  about  as 
big  as  a  dining-table,  with  four  wheels,  and  nothing 
to  propel  it  but  gravity,  and  nothing  to  stop  it 
but  a  sharpened  piece  of  two-by-four  scantling. 
Hancock  is  near  the  Alpine  tunnel,  at  the  summit 
of  the  mountains,  about  11,000  feet  high.  Secretary 
Morgan,  Mrs.  Morgan,  with  their  little  daughter 
Gertrude;  E.  A.  Slack,  of  the  Sun,  Frank  Clark, 
of  the  Leader,  Superintendent  Wilbur  and  ourself , 
constituted  the  party. 

At  first  everybody  was  a  little  nervous  with  the 
accumulating  velocity  of  the  car,  and  the  yawning 
abyss  below  us ;  but  later  we  got  more  accustomed 
to  it,  and  the  solemn  grandeur  of  the  green  pine- 
covered  canons,  the  lofty  snow-covered  peaks, 
apparently  so  near  us ;  and  the  rushing,  foaming 
torrent  far  below  us,  were  all  we  saw.  Like  light- 
ning we  rounded  the  sharp  curves  where  the  road 
seemed  to  hang  over  instant  destruction,  and  we 
held  our  breath  as  we  thought  that,  like  Dutch 
Charlie  and  other  great  men,  only  a  piece  of  two- 
by-four  scantling  stood  between  us  and  death. 

Again  and  again  the  abrupt  curve  loomed  up 
ahead,  and  below  us,  while  we  flew  along  the 


RIDING  DOWN  A  MOUNTAIN. 


287 


narrow  gauge  at  such  a  pace  that  we  were  almost 
sure  the  car  would  leave  the  track  before  it  would 
round  such  a  point,  and  each  time  the  two-by-four 
went  down  on  the  drive  wheel  with  a  pressure 
that  sent  up  volumes  of  blue  smoke. 

It  was  a  wild,  grand  ride— so  wild  and  grand 
in  fact  that  even  yet  we  wake  up  at  night  with  a 
start  from  a  dream  in  which  the  same  party  is 
riding  down  that  canon  at  lightning  speed,  and 
Mr.  Wilbur,  in  a  thoughtless  moment,  has  dropped  ^ 
his  pine  brake  overboard ! 

Shades  of  Sam  Patch,  but  wouldn't  it  scatter 
the  average  excurter  over  southern  Colorado  if 
such  a  thing  should  happen  some  day !  Why,  the 
woods  would  be  full  of  them,  and  for  years  to 
come,  the  prospector  along  Chalk  Creek  Canon 
would  find  pyrites  of  editorial  poverty,  and  indi- 
cations of  collar  buttons,  and  fragments  ol 
Archimedean  levers,  and  other  mementoes  of  the 
great  editorial  hegira  of  1882. 


OOEEALED  HIM. 


AST  May  Sheriff  Boswell  received  a  postal 


J— d  card  from  a  man  up  near  Fort  McKinney, 
describing  a  pair  of  horses  that  had  just  been 
stolen  and  asking  that  Mr.  Boswell  would  keep 
his  eye  peeled  for  the  thief  and  arrest  him  on 
sight. 

Last  week  the  sheriff  discovered  the  identical 
team  with  color,  brands  and  everything  to  corre- 
spond. He  told  the  driver  that  he  would  have  to 
turn  over  that  team  and  come  along  to  the  bastile. 
The  man  stoutly  protested  his  innocence  and 
claimed  that  he  owned  the  team,  but  Boswell 
laughed  him  to  scorn  and  said  he  often  got  such 
games  of  talk  as  that  when  he  arrested  horse 
thieves. 

J ust  as  they  were  going  down  into  the  damp 
corridors,  Judge  Blair  met  the  criminal,  recog- 
nized him  at  once  and  called  him  by  name.  It 
seems  that  he  was  the  man  who  had  originally 
written  Boswell,  and  having  found  his  horses  he 
had  neglected  to  inform  him.  Thus,  when  he 
came  to  town  four  months  afterward,  he  got 
snatched.  You  not  only  have  to  call  the  officer's 
attention  to  a  larceny  in  this  country,  but  it  is 


288 


LET  BALD-HEADED  MEN  REJOICE. 


289 


absolutely  necessary  that  you  call  off  the  sleuth 
hound  of  eternal  justice  when  you  have  found 
the  property,  or  you  will  be  gathered  in  unless 
you  can  identify  yourself.  BoswelPs  initials  are 
N.  K.,  and  now  the  boys  call  him  Nemesis  K. 
Boswell. 


HE  London  Lancet  upsets  the  popular  theory 


that  abundant  hair  is  a  sign  of  bodily  or 
mental  strength.  The  fact  is,  it  says,  that  not- 
withstanding the  Samson  precedent,  the  Chinese, 
who  are  the  most  enduring  of  all  races,  are  mostly 
bald;  and  as  to  the  supposition  that  long  and 
thick  hair  is  a  sign  of  intellectuality,  all  antiquity, 
all  madhouses  and  all  common  observation  are 
against  it.  The  easily-wheedled  Esau  was  hairy. 
The  mighty  CaBsar  was  bald.  Long  haired  men 
are  generally  weak  and  fanatical,  and  men  with 
scant  hair  are  the  philosophers,  and  soldiers,  and 
statesmen,  of  the  world.  Oscar  Wilde,  Theodore 
Tilton,  and  others  of  the  long-haired  fraternity, 
should  read  these  statements  with  soulful  and 
heart-yearning  delight. 

Will  the  editor  of  the  Lcmcet  please  step  over 


LET  BALD-HEADED  ME1ST 
REJOICE. 


19 


290 


BALED  HAY. 


to  the  saloon,  opposite  the  royal  palace,  and  take 
something  at  our.  expense  ?  Pard,  we  shake  with 
you.  Count  us  in  also.  Beckon  us  along  with 
Ceesar,  and  Elijah,  and  Aristotle,  please.  Though 
young,  we  can  show  more  polished  intellect  to  the 
superficial  foot  than  many  who  have  lived  longer 
than  we  have. 

Will  the  editor  of  the  Lancet  please  put  our 
name  on  his  list  of  subscribers  and  send  the  bill 
to  us  ?  What  we  want  is  a  good,  live  paper  that 
knows  something,  and  isn't  afraid  to  say  it. 


FIBM20ESS. 


^TT"E  were  pained  to  see  a  large  mule  brought 
^  *  into  town  yesterday  with  his  side  worn 
away  until  it  looked  very  thin.  It  looked  as  though 
the  pensive  mule  had  laid  down  to  think  over  his 
past  life,  and  being  in  the  company  of  seven  other 
able-bodied  mules,  all  of  whom  were  attached  to 
a  government  freight  wagon  going  down  a  mount- 
ain, this  particular  animal,  while  wrapped  in  a 
brown  study,  had  been  pulled  several  miles  with 
so  much  unction,  as  it  were,  that  when  the  train 
stopped  it  was  found  that  this  large  and  highly 
accomplished  mule  had  worn  his  side  off  so  thin 
that  you  could  see  his  inmost  thoughts. 


FIRMNESS. 


291 


When  we  saw  him,  he  looked  as  though,  if  he 
had  his  life  to  live  over  again,  he  would  select  a 
different  time  to  ponder  over  his  previous  history. 
Sometimes  a  mule's  firmness  causes  his  teetotal 
and  everlasting  overthrow. 

Firmness  is  a  good  thing  in  its  place,  but  we 
should  early  learn  that  to  be  firm,  we  need  not 
stand  up  against  a  cyclone  till  our  eternal  econ- 
omy is  blown  into  the  tops  of  the  neighboring 
trees.  Moral  courage  is  a  good  thing,  but  it  is 
useless  unless  you  have  a  liver  to  go  along  with  it. 
Sometimes  a  man  is  required  to  lay  down  his  life 
for  his  principles,  but  the  cases  where  he  is 
expected  to  lay  down  his  digester  on  the  altar  of 
his  belief,  are  comparatively  seldom. 

We  may  often  learn  a  valuable  lesson  from  the 
stubborn  mule,  and  guard  against  the  too  pro- 
truberant  use  of  our  own  ideas  in  opposition  to 
other  powers  against  which  it  is  useless  to  contend. 
It  may  be  wrong  for  giant  powder  to  blow  the 
top  of  a  man's  head  off  without  cause,  but  repealed 
contests  have  proved  that  even  when  giant  powder 
is  in  the  wrong,  it  is  eventually  victorious. 

Let  us,  therefore,  while  reasonably  fixed  in  our 
purpose,  avoid  the  display  of  a  degree  of  firmness 
which  will  scatter  us  around  over  two  school 
districts,  and  confuse  the  coroner  in  his  inquest. 


PUT  IN  A  SUMP. 


HE  president  of  the  North  Park  and  Van- 


dalia  Mining  Company  not  long  ago  got  a 
letter  from  the  superintendent  which  closed  by 
saying  that  everything  was  working  splendidly. 
The  ore  body  was  increasing,  and  the  quality  and 
richness  of  the  rock  improving  with  every  foot. 
He  also  added  that  he  had  constructed  a  sump  in 
the  mine. 

The  president  having  spent  most  of  his  life  in 
military  and  political  affairs,  had  never  found  it 
necessary  to  use  a  sump,  and  so  he  didn't  know 
to  a  dead  moral  certainty  what  it  was  that  the 
superintendent  had  put  in. 

He  hoped,  however,  that  the  expense  would  not 
cripple  the  company,  and  that  by  handling  it  care- 
fully, they  might  escape  damage  from  an  explosion 
of  the  sump  at  an  unlooked-for  time. 

He  proceeded,  however,  to  examine  the  un- 
abridged, and  found  that  it  meant  a  cistern,  which 
is  constructed  at  the  bottom  of  a  mine  for  the 
purpose  of  collecting  the  water,  and  from  which 
it  is  pumped. 

The  president,  having  posted  himself,  concluded 
to  go  and  have  a  little  conversation  with  one  of 


292 


PUT  IN  A  SUMP. 


293 


the  directors,  who  is  a  druggist  in  the  city,  and 
see  if  he  knew  the  nature  of  a  sump. 

The  president,  in  answer  to  the  questions  of  the 
director  relative  to  the  latest  news  from  the  mine, 
said  that  it  was  looking  better  all  the  time,  and 
that  the  superintendent  had  constructed  a  sump. 

The  director  never  blinked  his  eye.  He  acted 
like  a  man  who  has  lived  on  sumps  all  his  life. 

"Do  you  know  what  a  sump  is?"  asked  the 
president.  "  Why,  of  course,  anybody  knows  what 
a  sump  is.  It's  the  place  where  they  collect  water 
from  a  mine,  and  pump  it  from,  to  free  the  mine 
from  water.  A  man  who  don't  know  what  a  sump 
is,  don't  know  his  business,  that's  all  I've  got 
to  say." 

The  president  looked  hurt  about  something. 
He  hadn't  looked  for  the  conversation  to  assume 
just  exactly  the  shape  that  it  had.  Finally  he 
said,  "Well  you  needn't  point  your  withering 
sarcasm  at  me.  I  know  what  a  sump  is.  I  just 
wanted  to  see  whether  a  man  who  had  been  in 
the  pill  business  all  his  life,  knew  what  a  sump 
was.  I  knew  you  claimed  to  know  almost  every- 
thing, but  I  didn't  believe  you  was  up  on  that 
word.  Now,  if  it's  a  proper  question,  I'd  like  to 
know  just  how  long  you  have  been  so  all-fired 
fluent  about  mining  terms." 

Then  the  director  said  that  there  was  no  use  in 


294 


BALED  HAY. 


putting  on  airs,  and  swelling  up  with  pride5  over 
a  little  thing  like  that.  He,  for  one,  didn't  pro- 
pose to  crow  over  other  men  who  had  not  had 
the  advantages  that  he  had,  and  he  would  be 
frank  with  the  president,  and  admit  that  an  hour 
ago  he  didn't  know  the  difference  between  a  sump 
and  a  certiorari. 

It  seems  that  a  passenger,  who  had  come  in  on 
the  same  coach  that  brought  in  the  superintend- 
ent's letter,  had  casually  dropped  the  remark  to 
the  director  that  Smith  had  put  a  sump  in  the 
"  Endomile,"  and  the  director  had  lit  out  for  a 
dictionary  without  loss  of  time,  so  that  when  the 
two  great  miners  got  together,  they  were  both 
proud  and  confident.  Each  was  proud  because 
he  knew  what  a  sump  was,  and  confident  that 
the  other  one  didn't  know. 


MTNTCra  AS  A  SCIENCE. 


THE  study  of  mining  as  a  science  is  one  which 
brings  with  it  a  quiet  joy,  which  the  novice 
knows  nothing  of.  In  Morrison's  Mining  Eights 
we  find  the  following : 

« If  all  classes  of  lode  deposits  are  to  be  regarded 
as  legally  identical,  it  follows  that  where  a  vein 
is  pinched  for  a  considerable  distance,  it  is  lost  to 
the  owner ;  if  its  apex  is  found  in  the  slide,  it  can 
not  be  located  as  a  lode. 

"The  distinction  which  would  relieve  these 
points  would  be  to  allow  the  dip  to  such  lodes 
only  as  have  a  perpendicular  base  and  are  not  on 
the  nature  of  stratigraphical  deposits;  all  the 
inconsistencies  apparent  from  the  previous  para- 
graph are  the  sequence  to  any  other  ruling. 
=  "If  it  be  alleged  that  such  holdings  are  not 
applicable  to  fissure  veins,  at  once  a  distinction  is 
made  between  the  two  classes  of  veins  in  their  con- 
sideration under  the  act ;  and  if  a  single  distinction 
in  their  legal  status  be  admitted,  no  reason  can  be 
alleged  against  further  distinctions  with  reference 
to  their  essential  points  at  difference." 

Now,  few  who  have  not  toiled  over  the  long 
and  wearisome  works  upon  mining  as  a  legal 
895 


296 


BALED  HAY. 


branch  of  human  knowledge,  would  care  a  cold, 
dead  clam,  whether  such  lodes  as  have  perpen- 
dicular bases,  or  those  which  have  stratigraphical 
deposits,  are  to  be  allowed  under  the  law  in  rela- 
tion to  pinched  out  or  intersecting  veins. 

But  to  the  student,  whose  whole  lif  e  is  wrapped 
up  in  the  investigation  of  this  beautiful  mystery, 
these  logical  sequences  break  upon  his  mind  with 
a  beautiful  effulgence  that  fills  him  with  unstrati- 
fied  and  purely  igneous  or  nomicaseous  joy. 

Beading  farther  in  the  thrilling  work,  above 
referred  to,  we  find  this  little  garland  of  fragrant 
literary  wood  violets : 

"Another  point  to  be  guarded  against  in  the 
conveyance  of  a  segregated  portion  of  a  claim  on 
a  fissure  vein,  is,  that  a  line  drawn  at  right  angles 
to  the  side  lines  at  the  surface,  and  which  is 
intended  as  the  dividing  line  between  the  part 
retained  and  the  part  sold,  may,  when  carried 
vertically  downward,  cut  off  the  vein  on  its  dip 
in  such  a  way  as  to  divide  it,  for  instance,  at  the 
surface  It  begins  '  at  the  west  end  of  discovery 
snaft,'  it  may  leave  the  bottom  of  such  shaft 
entirely  in  the  west  fraction  of  the  lode  within  a 
comparatively  few  feet  of  sinking.  Such  result, 
or  a  similar  result,  will  in  variably  occur  where  the 
vein  has  a  dip,  unless  the  end  lines  are  at  an  exact 
right  angle  to  the  strike  of  the  vein." 


MINING  AS  A  SCIENCE. 


297 


Now,  however,  supposing  that,  for  the  sake  of 
argument,  the  above  be  true;  but,  in  addition 
thereto,  a  segregation  of  non-metallic  vertically 
heterogeneous  quartzite  in  non-conformity  to  pre- 
supposed notions  of  horizontal  deposits  of  mineral 
in  place  should  be  agatized  and  truncated  with 
diverging  lines  meeting  at  the  point  of  intersec- 
tion and  disappearing  with  the  pinched  veins  or 
departing  from  known  proximity  in  company 
with  the  dividends,  we  have  then  to  consider 
whether  a  winze  coming  in  at  this  juncture  and 
pinching  out  the  assessments,  would  thereby  inval- 
idate tertiary  flux,  and  thereby,  in  the  light  of  a 
close  legal  examination  of  the  slide,  bar  out  the 
placer  or  riparian  rights  of  contesting  parties,  or, 
if  so,  why  in  thunder  should  it  not,  or  at  least, 
what  could  be  done  about  it  in  case  the  same  or  a 
totally  different  set  of  surrounding  circumstances 
should  or  should  not  take  place? 


DEAWBACKS  OF  EOYALTY. 


TT  seems  from  our  late  dispatches  that  the  pre 
vailing  assassin  has  made  his  appearance  in 
England,  and  has  fired  at  Her  Boyal  Tallness,  the 
Queen.  The  dispatch  does  not  say  why  the  man 
fired  at  Victoria,  but  the  chances  are  that  she  at 
some  time  in  a  careless  moment  refused  him  the 
appointment  of  Book-keeper  to  the  Queen's 
Livery  Stable  Extraordinary,  or  neglected  to 
confirm  his  nomination  to  the  position  as  Usher 
Plenipotentiary  to  the  Eoyal  Bath  Koom  and 
Knight  of  the  Queen's  Cuspidor. 

Eoyalty  gets  it  in  the  nose  every  day  or  two, 
and  yet  after  the  family  has  hung  onto  the  salary 
for  several  centuries  it  does  not  occur  to  the 
average  king  that  he  could  strike  a  job  as  humor- 
ist on  some  London  paper,  at  about  the  same 
salary  and  with  none  of  the  annoyances.  The 
most  of  those  people  who  have  worn  a  great, 
heavy  cast  iron  crown,  with  diamonds  on  it  as 
big  as  a  peanut,  have  become  so  attached  to  it 
that  they  can't  swear  off  in  a  moment. 

We  do  not  see  where  the  orchestra  comes  in  on 
a  thing  like  that.  The  average  American  would 
rather  sell  mining  stock,  and  get  wealthy  without 
298 


ENGLISH  HUMOR. 


299 


a  tail  on  his  name  and  his  hair  all  worn  off  with 
a  crown  two  sizes  too  large  for  him,  than  to  be 
King  of  the  Cannibal  Islands  with  a  missionary 
baby  on  toast  twice  a  day. 


ENGLISH  HUMOR 


THE  London  Spectator  says  that  "the  humor 
of  the  United  States,  if  closely  examined, 
will  be  found  to  depend  in  a  great  measure  on 
the  ascendancy  which  the  principle  of  utility  has 
gained  over  the  imaginations  of  a  rather  imagin- 
ative people."  The  humor  of  England,  if  closely 
examined,  will  be  found  just  about  ready  to  drop 
over  the  picket  fence  into  the  arena,  but  never 
quite  making  connections.  If  we  scan  the  English 
literary  horizon,  we  will  find  the  humorist  up  a 
tall  tree,  depending  from  a  sharp  knot  thereof  by 
the  slack  of  his  overalls.  He  is  just  out  of  sight 
at  the  time  you  look  In  that  direction.  He  always 
has  a  man  working  in  his  place,  however.  The 
man  who  works  in  his  place  is  just  paring  down 
the  half  sole,  and  newly  pegging  a  joke,  that  has 
recently  been  sent  in  by  the  foreman  for  repairs. 


ABOUT  THE  AUTOPSY. 


~\T7"E  have  been  carefully  reading  and  investi- 
*  *  gating  the  report  of  Dr.  Lamb,  relative 
to  the  anatomical  condition  of  the  late  remnants 
of  Charles  J.  Guiteau,  and  also  a  partial  or 
minority  report  furnished  by  the  other  two  doc- 
tors, who  got  on  their  ear  at  the  time  of  the 
autopsy.  We  are  permitted  to  print  the  fragment 
of  a  private  letter  addressed  personally  to  the 
editor  from  one  of  these  gentlemen,  whose  name 
we  are  not  permitted  to  use.    He  says : 

"  We  found  the  late  lamented,  and  after  looking 
him  over  thoroughly,  and  removing  what  works 
he  had  inside  of  him,  agreed,  almost  at  once,  that 
he  was  dead.  This  was  the  only  point  upon  w^hich 
we  agreed. 

"  Shortly  after  we  began  to  remove  the  internal 
economy  of  the  deceased,  some  little  discussion 
arose  between  Doc  Lamb  and  myself  about  the 
extravasation  of  blood  in  the  right  pectoralis  and 
the  peculiar  position  of  the  dewflicker  on  the 
dome  of  the  diaphragm.  I  made  a  suggestion 
about  the  causes  that  had  led  to  this,  stating,  in 
my  opinion,  the  pericarditis  had  crossed  the 
median  line  and  congested  the  dewdad. 

300 


ABOUT  THE  AUTOPSY. 


301 


"  He  said  it  was  no  such  thing,  and  that  I  didn't 
know  the  difference  between  a  malpighian  capsule 
and  an,  abdominal  viscera. 

"That  insulted  me,  but  I  held  my  temper,  going 
on  with  my  work,  removing  the  gall-bladder  and 
other  things,  as  though  nothing  had  been  said. 

"By  and  by,  Lamb  said  I'd  better  quit  fooling 
with  the  pancreas,  and  come  and  help  him. 
Then  he  advanced  a  torn-fool  theory  about  an 
adhesion  of  the  dura  mater  to  the  jib-boom,  or 
some  medical  rot  or  other,  and  I  told  him  that  I 
thought  he  was  wrong,  and  I  didn't  believe 
deceased  had  any  dura  mater.    Lamb  flared  up 
then,  and  struck  at  me  with  a  bloody  towel.  I 
then  grabbed  a  fragment  of  liver,  and  pasted  him 
in  the  nose.    I  don't  allow  any  sawbone  upstart 
to  impose  on  me,  if  I  know  it.    He  then  called 
me  a  very  opprobrious  epithet,  indeed,  and  struck 
me  in  the  eye  with  a  kidney.    Then  the  fight 
became  disgraceful,  and  by  the  time  we  got 
through,  the  late  lamented  was  considerably 
scattered.    Here  lay  a  second-hand  lobe  of  liver, 
while  over  there  was  the  apex  of ,  a  lung  hanging 
on  a  gas  fixture.  It  was  a  pretty  lively  scrimmage, 
and  made  quite  a  feeling  between  us.  I  still  think, 
however,  that  I  was  right  in  standing  up  for  my 
theory,  and  when  an  old  pelican  like  Lamb  thinks 
he  can  scare  me  into  St.  Vitus'  dance,  he  fools 


302 


BALED  HAY. 


himself.  The  fact  is,  he  don't  know  a  gall-bladder 
from  the  gout,  and  he  couldn't  tell  a  lobulated 
tumor  from  the  side  of  a  house.  I  told  him  so, 
too,  while  I  was  putting  some  court  plaster  on  my 
nose,  after  he  pasted  me  with  an  old  prison  bed- 
stead. Lamb  would  get  along  better  with  me  if 
he  would  curb  his  violent  temper.  I  guess  he 
thought  so,  too,  when  I  broke  his  false  teeth  and 
jammed  them  so  far  back  into  his  oesophagus  that 
he  got  blue  in  the  face.  I  never  allow  a  second- 
hand horse  doctor  to  impose  on  me,  if  I  know  it, 
and  it  is  time  Doc  Lamb  took  a  grand  aborescent 
tumble  to  himself." 


LOJnDOjST  paper  tells  how  when  a  certain 


Dean  of  Chester  was  all  ready  to  perform  a 
marriage  between  persons  of  high  standing,  the 
bride  was  very  late.  When  she  reached  the 
altar,  to  the  question,  "  Wilt  thou  take  this 
man?"  she  replied  in  most  distinct  tones,  "I  will 
not."  On  retiring  with  the  Dean  to  the  vestry, 
she  explained  that  her  late  arrival  was  not  her 
fault,  and  that  the  bridegroom  had  accosted  her 
on  her  arrival  at  the  church  with,  "G— d  d  — n 


A  FEW  CALM  WOBDS. 


A  FEW  CALM  WORDS. 


303 


you,  if  this  is  the  way  you  begin  you'll  find  it  to 
to  your  cost  when  you're  my  wife." 

That  was  no  way  to  open  up  a  honeymoon. 
They  are  not  doing  that  way  recently,  and  in  the 
bon  ton  and  dishabille  select  and  etcetera  society 
of  the  more  metropolitan  cities,  such  a  remark 
would  at  once  be  considered  as  outre  and  Corpus 
Christi. 

The  groom  should  stop  and  consider  that  some- 
times the  most  annoying  accidents  occur  to  a 
young  lady  in  dressing.    Suppose  for  instance 
that  in  stooping  over  to  button  her  shoe  she 
breaks  a  spoke  in  her  corset  and  has  to  send  it  to 
the  blacksifrith  shop,  do  you  think  that  the  groom 
is  justified  in  kicking  over  the  altar  and  dragging 
his  affianced  up  the  aisle  by  the  hair  of  the  head? 
"We  would  rather  suggest  that  he  would  not. 
There  are  other  distressing  accidents  which  may 
happen  at  such  a  time  to  the  prospective  bride, 
but  we  forbear  to  enter  into  the  harrowing 
details.    No  man  with  the  finer  feelings  of  a  gen- 
tleman will  ever  knock  his  new  wife  down  in  the 
church  and  tramp  on  her,  until  he  knows  to  a 
reasonable  degree  of  certainty  that  he  is  right. 
It  may  be  annoying,  of  course,  to  the  groom  to 
stand  and  look  out  of  the  window  for  half  an 
hour  while  the  bride  is  allaying  the  hemorrhage 
of  a  pimple  on  her  nose  with  a  powder  puff,  but 


304 


BALED  HAY. 


then,  great  hemlock !  if  a  man  can't  endure  that 
and  smile,  how  will  he  behave  when  the  clothes- 
line falls  down  and  the  baby  gets  a  kernel  of  corn 
up  its  nose  ? 

These  are  questions  which  naturally  occur  to 
the  candid  and  thinking  mind  and  command  our 
attention.  The  groom  who  would  swear  at  his 
wife  for  being  a  few  minutes  late  at  the  altar, 
would  kill  her  and  throw  her  stiffened  remains 
over  into  the  sheep  corral  if  she  allowed  the  twins 
to  eat  crackers  in  his  bed  and  scatter  the  crumbs 
over  his  couch. 

Let  us  look  these  matters  calmly  in  the  face, 
and  not  allow  ourselves  to  drift  away  into  space. 


DOISPT  LIKE  OUE  STYLE. 


/^vSCAB  WILDE  closes  his  remarks  about 
^/  America  thus :  "  But  it  is  in  the  decay  of 
manners  that  the  thoughtful  and  well-bred 
American  has  cause  for  regret.  I  have  repeat- 
edly said  this,  but  I  am  told  in  reply :  <  We  are 
still  a  young  country,  and  you  must  not  be  too 
severe  upon  us.'  '  Yes,'  I  answer,  '  but  when  your 
country  was  still  younger,  it's  manners  were  better. 
They  have  never  been  equal  since  to  what  they 


don't  like  our  style. 


305 


were  in  Washington's  time,  a  man  whose  manners 
were  irreproachable.  I  believe  a  most  serious 
problem  for  the  American  people  to  consider,  is 
the  cultivation  of  better  manners  among  its  people. 
It  is  the  most  noticeable,  the  most  painful  defect 
in  American  civilization."  Yes,  Oscar,  you  are, 
in  a  measure,  correct.  Our  manners  are  a  little 
decayed.  So  also  were  the  eggs  with  which  you 
were  greeted  in  some  of  our  cities.  That  may 
have  given  you  a  wrong  impression  as  to  our 
manners  and  their  state  of  health.  We  just  want 
to  straighten  out  any  little  error  of  judgment  on 
your  part  as  to  American  customs,  and  to  impress 
upon  your  mind  the  fact  that  the  decayed  article 
which,  in  most  cases  you  considered  our  miasma- 
impregnated  etiquette,  was  what  is  known  among 
savants  as  decayed  cabbage. 
20 


ME.  T.  WTLSOK 


THE  gentleman  above  ref  erred  to  has  accomp- 
lished one  of  the  most  remarkable  feats 
known  to  modern  science.  Though  uneducated, 
and  perhaps  inexperienced,  he  has  attracted 
toward  himself  the  notice  of  the  world. 

Though  he  was  once  a  poor  boy,  unnoticed  and 
unknown,  he  has  risen  to  the  proud  eminence 
from  which,  with  pride,  and  covered  with  glory 
and  sore  places,  he  may  survey  the  civilized  world. 
He  entered  upon  an  argument  with  Mr.  Sullivan, 
knowing  the  mental  strength  and  powers  of  his 
adversary,  and  yet  he  never  flinched.  He  stood 
up  before  his  powerful  antagonist,  and  acquired  a 
national  reputation,  and  a  large  octagonal  breadth 
of  black  and  blue  intellect,  which  are  the  envy 
and  admiration  of  50,000,000  people. 

This  should  be  a  convincing  argument  to  our 
growing  youth  of  the  possibilities  in  store  for  the 
earnest,  untiring  and  enthusiastic  thumper  It  is 
an  example  of  the  wonderful  triumph  of  mind 
over  matter.  It  shows  how  certain  intellectual 
developments  may  be  acquired  almost  instant- 
aneously. It  demonstrates  at  once  that  phreno- 
logical protuberances  may  be  grown  more  rapidly 
306 


MR.  T.  WILSON. 


307 


and  more  spontaneously  than  the  scientist  has 
ever  been  willing  to  admit. 

A  few  weeks  ago,  Tug  Wilson  was  as  obscure 
as  the  greenback  party.  Now  he  is  known  from 
ocean  to  ocean,  and  his  fame  is  as  universal  as  is 
that  of  Dr.  Tanner,  the  starvation  prima  donna 
of  the  world.  Few  men  have  the  intellectual 
stamina  to  withstand  the  strain  of  such  an  argu- 
ment as  he  did,  but  he  left  the  arena  with  a 
collection  of  knobs  and  arnica  clustering  around 
his  brow,  which  he  justly  merited,  and  the  world 
will  not  grudge  him  this  meagre  acquisition.  It 
was  due  to  his  own  exertions  and  his  own  prowess, 
and  there  is  no  American  so  mean  as  to  wrest  it 
from  him. 

Thousands  of  our  own  boys,  who  to-clay  are 
spearing  frogs,  or  bathing  in  the  rivers  of  their 
native  land  and  parading  on  the  shingly  beach 
with  no  clothes  on  to  speak  of,  are  left  to  choose 
between  such  a  career  of  usefulness  and  greatness 
of  brow,  and  the  hum-drum  life  of  a  bilious 
student  and  pale,  sad  congressman.  Will  you  rise 
to  the  proud  pinnacle  of  fame  as  a  pugilist,  boys, 
or  will  you  plug  along  as  a  sorrowing,  overworked 
statesman?  Now,  in  the  spring-time  of  your 
lives,  choose  between  the  two,  and  abide  th® 
consequences. 


ETIQUETTE  OF  THE  NAPKIN". 


IT  has  been  stated,  and  very  truly  too,  that  the 
law  of  the  napkin  is  but  vaguely  understood. 
It  may  be  said,  however,  on  the  start,  that  custom 
and  good  breeding  have  uttered  the  decree  that  it 
is  in  poor  taste  to  put  the  napkin  in  the  pocket 
and  carry  it  away. 

The  rule  of  etiquette  is  becoming  more  and 
more  thoroughly  established,  that  the  napkin 
should  be  left  at  the  house  of  the  host  or  hostess, 
after  dinner. 

There  has  been  a  good  deal  of  discussion,  also, 
upon  the  matter  of  folding  the  napkin  after  dinner, 
and  whether  it  should  be  so  disposed  of,  or  negli- 
gently tossed  into  the  gravy  boat.  If,  however, 
it  can  be  folded  easily,  and  without  attracting  too 
much  attention  and  prolonging  the  session  for 
several  hours,  it  should  be  so  arranged,  and  placed 
beside  the  plate,  where  it  may  be  easily  found  by 
the  hostess,  and  returned  to  her  neighbor  from 
whom  she  borrowed  it  for  the  occasion.  If,  how- 
ever, the  lady  of  the  house  is  not  doing  her  own 
work,  the  napkin  may  be  carefully  jammed  into  a 
globular  wad,  and  fired  under  the  table,  to  convey 
308 


ETIQUETTE  OF  THE  NAPKIN. 


309 


the  idea  of  utter  recklessness  and  pampered 
abandon. 

The  use  of  the  finger  bowl  is  also  a  subject  of 
much  importance  to  the  bon  ton  guest  who  gorges 
himself  at  the  expense  of  his  friends. 

The  custom  of  drinking  out  of  the  finger  bowl, 
though  not  entirely  obsolete,  has  been  limited  to 
the  extent  that  good  breeding  does  not  now 
permit  the  guest  to  quaff  the  water  from  his  finger 
bowl,  unless  he  does  so  prior  to  using  it  as  a 
finger  bowl. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  social  customs  are 
slowly  but  surely  cutting  down  and  circumscribing 
the  rights  and  privileges  of  the  masses. 

At  the  court  of  Eugenie,  the  customs  of  the 
table  were  very  rigid,  and  the  most  prominent 
guest  of  H.  E.  H.  was  liable  to  get  the  G.  B.  if  he 
spread  his  napkin  on  his  lap,  and  cut  his  egg  in 
two  with  a  carving  knife.  The  custom  was*  that 
the  napkin  should  be  hung  on  one  knee,  and  the 
egg  busted  at  the  big  end  and  scooped  out  with 
a  spoon. 

A  prominent  American,  at  her  table,  one  day, 
in  an  unguarded  moment,  shattered  the  shell  of  a  > 
soft-boiled  egg  with  his  knife,  and,  while  prying 
it  apart,  both  thumbs  were  erroneously  jammed 
into  the  true  inwardness  of  the  fruit  with  so  much 
momentum  that  the  juice  took  him  in  the  eye, 


310 


BALED  HAY. 


thus  blinding  him  and  maddening  him  to  such  a 
degree,  that  he  got  up  and  threw  the  remnants 
into  the  bosom  of  the  hired  man  plenipotentiary, 
who  stood  near  the  table,  scratching  his  ear  with 
a  tray.  As  may  readily  be  supposed,  there  was 
a  painful  interim  during  which  it  was  hard  to  tell 
for  five  or  six  minutes  whether  the  prominent 
American  or  the  hired  man  would  come  out  on 
top ;  but  at  last  the  American,  with  the  egg  in  his 
eye,  got  the  ear  of  the  high-priced  hired  man  in 
among  his  back  teeth,  and  the  honor  of  our 
beloved  flag  was  vindicated. 


AN  nsTFERJSTAL  MACHINE. 


ASHSTGULAK  thing  occurred  in  England  the 
other  day,  and  in  view  of  its  truth,  and  also  in 
order  that  the  American  side  of  the  affair  may  be 
shown  in  the  correct  light,  we  give  the  facts  as 
they  occurred,  having  obtained  our  information 
directly  from  the  parties  who  were  implicated  in 
the  affair.  We  hesitate  to  take  hold  of  the  sub- 
ject, but  our  duty  to  the  American  people  demands 
some  action,  and  we  do  not  falter. 

During  the  past  winter  there  arrived  in  London 
a  suspicious-looking  metallic  box,  with  a  peculiar 
thumb-screw  or  button  on  the  top.    It  was  sent 


AN  INFERNAL  MACHINE. 


311 


by  mail,  and  was  addressed  to  a  prominent  land 
owner.  This  gentleman  had  been  on  the  watch 
for  some  explosive  machine  for  some  time,  and 
when  it  was  brought  to  him,  he  at  once  turned  it 
over  to  the  authorities  for  investigation.  The 
police  force,  detective  force  and  chemists  were 
called  in,  and  requested  to  ascertain  the  nature  of 
the  infernal  machine,  and,  if  possible,  where  it 
came  from. 

Experts  examined  the  box,  and,  with  the  aid  of 
a  cord  attached  to  the  suspicious  button  on  top, 
pulled  open  the  metallic  box  without  explosion. 
The  substance  contained  therein,  was  of  a  dark 
color,  with  a  strong  smell  of  ammonia.  All  kinds 
of  tests  were  made  by  the  experts,  in  order  to 
ascertain  of  what  kind  of  combustible  it  was  com- 
posed. The  odor  was  carefully  noted,  as  well  as 
the  taste,  and  then  there  was  a  careful  chemical 
analysis  made,  which  was  barren  of  result.  In 
the  midst  of  the  general  alarm,  the  London  papers, 
with  large  scare-heads  and  astonishers,  gave  full 
and  elaborate  reports  of  the  attempt  upon  the 
life  of  a  prominent  man,  through  the  agency  of  a 
new  and  very  peculiar  machine,  loaded  with  an 
explosive,  of  which  scientists  could  gain  no  know- 
ledge or  information  whatever. 

It  looked  as  though  the  assassin  was  far  in 
advance  of  science,  or  at  least  of  professional  chem- 


312 


BALED  HAY. 


ists,  and  the  matter  was  about  to  be  given  up  in 
despair,  when  the  following  letter  arrived  from 
San  Antonio,  Texas,  United  States  of  America : 

"  My  Dear  Sir  : — I  sent  you  by  a  recent  mail, 
prepaid,  a  small  metallic  box  of  bat  guano,  from 
the  caves  of  Texas,  for  analysis  and  experiment. 
Please  acknowledge  receipt  of  same. 

"  Morton  Frewen." 

Then  the  experts  went  home.  They  felt  as 
though  science  had  done  all  it  could  in  this  case, 
and  they  needed  rest,  and  perfect  calm,  and  change 
of  scene.  They  hadn't  seen  their  families  for 
some  time,  and  they  wanted  to  go  home  and  get 
acquainted  with  their  wives.  They  didn't  ask  for 
any  pay  for  their  services.  They  just  said  it  was 
in  the  interest  of  science,  and  they  couldn't  have 
the  heart  to  charge  anything  for  it.  One  chemist 
started  off  without  his  umbrella,  and  never  went 
back  after  it. 

When  he  got  home  he  was  troubled  with  nausea, 
and  they  had  to  feed  him  on  cracker  toast  for 
several  weeks. 

We  tell  this  incident  simply  to  vindicate 
America.  The  London  papers  did  not  give  all 
the  proceedings,  and  we  feel  it  our  duty  to  place 
the  United  States  upon  a  square  footing  with 
England  in  this  matter.  Of  course  it  is  a  little 
tough  on  the  experts,  but  when  we  know  our  duty 


THE  CODFISH. 


313 


to  our  magnificent  country  and  the  land  that  gave 
us  birth,  there  is  no  earthly  power  we  fear,  no 
terrestrial  snoozer  who  can  deter  us  from  its 
performance. 


THE  CODFISH. 


a^HIS  tropical  bird  very  seldom  wings  his  way 
-  so  far  west  as  "Wyoming.  He  loves  the  sea 
breezes  and  humid  atmosphere  of  the  Atlantic 
ocean,  and  when  isolated  in  this  mountain  clime, 
pines  for  his  native  home. 

The  codfish  cannot  sing,  but  is  prized  for  his 
beautiful  plumage  and  seductive  odor. 

The  codfish  of  commerce  is  devoid  of  digestive 
apparatus,  and  is  more  or  less  permeated  with  salt. 

Codfish  on  toast  is  not  as  expensive  as  quail 
on  toast. 

The  codfish  ball  is  made  of  the  shattered  remains 
of  the  adult  codfish,  mixed  with  the  tropical  Irish 
potato  of  commerce. 

The  codfish  has  a  great  wealth  of  glad,  unfettered 
smile.  When  he  laughs  at  anything,  he  has  that 
same  wide  waste  of  mirth  and  back  teeth  that  Mr. 
Talmage  has.  The  Wyoming  codfish  is  generally 
dead.  Death,  in  most  cases,  is  the  result  of  expos 
ure  and  loss  of  appetite.    No  one  can  look  at  the 


314 


BALED  HAY 


codfish  of  commerce,  and  not  shed  a  tear.  Far 
from  home,  with  his  system  filled  with  salt,  while 
his  internal  economy  is  gone,  there  is  an  air  of 
sadness  and  homesickness  and  briny  hopelessness 
about  him  that  no  one  can  see  unmoved. 

It  is  in  our  home  life,  however,  that  the  codfish 
makes  himself  felt  and  remembered.  When  he 
enters  our  household,  we  feel  his  all  pervading 
presence,  like  the  perfume  of  wood  violets,  or  the 
seductive  odor  of  a  dead  mouse  in  the  piano. 

Friends  may  visit  us  and  go  away,  to  be  for- 
gotten with  the  advent  of  a  new  face :  but  the 
cold,  calm,  silent  corpse  of  the  codfish  cannot  be 
forgotten.  Its  chastened  influence  permeates  the 
entire  ranch.  It  steals  into  the  parlor,  like  an 
unbidden  guest,  and  flavors  the  costly  curtains 
and  the  high-priced  lambrequins.  It  enters  the 
dark  closet  and  dallies  lovingly  with  your  swallow- 
tail coat.  It  goes  into  your  sleeping  apartment, 
and  makes  its  home  in  your  glove  box  and  your 
handkerchief  case. 

That  is  why  we  say  that  it  is  a  solemn  thing  to 
take  the  life  of  a  codfish.  AVe  would  not  do  it. 
\Ve  would  pass  him  by  a  thousand  times,  no 
matter  how  ferocious  he  might  be.  rather  than 
take  his  life,  and  have  our  once  happy  home 
haunted  forever  by  his  unholy  presence. 


HIS  AGED  MOTHER 


AN  exchange  says  that  "  the  James  boys  had  a 
-  morose  and  ugly  disposition."  This  may 
be  regarded  as  authentic.  The  James  boys  were 
not  only  morose,  but  they  were  at  times  irritable 
and  even  boorish.  Some  of  their  acts  would  seem 
to  savor  of  the  most  coarse  and  rude  of  impulses. 
Jesse  James  at  different  times  killed  over  fifty 
men.  This  would  show  that  his  disposition  must 
have  been  soured  by  some  great  sorrow.  A  person 
who  fills  the  New  Jerusalem  with  people,  or  kills 
a  majority  of  the  republican  voters  of  a  precinct, 
or  the  entire  board  of  directors  of  a  national  bank, 
or  who  remorselessly  kills  all  the  first-class  pas- 
sengers on  a  through  train,  just  because  he  feels 
crochety  and  disagreeable,  must  be  morose  and 
sullen  in  his  disposition.  No  man,  who  is  healthy 
and  full  of  animal  spirits,  could  massacre  the  able- 
bodied  voters  of  a  whole  village,  unless  he  felt 
cross  and  taciturn  naturally. 

There  should  have  been  a  post  mortem  examin- 
ation of  Mr.  James  to  determine  what  was  the 
matter  with  him.  We  were  in  favor  of  a  post 
mortem  examination  of  Mr.  James  twelve  years 
ago,  but  there  seemed  to  be  a  feeling  of  reluctance 
315 


316 


BALED  HAY. 


on  the  part  of  the  authorities  about  holding  it.  No 
one  seemed  to  doubt  the  propriety  of  such  a  move- 
ment, but  there  was  a  kind  of  vague  hesitation  by 
the  proper  officials  on  account  of  his  mother. 
There  has  been  a  vast  amount  of  thoughtfulness 
manifested  by  the  Missouri  people  on  behalf  of 
Jesse's  mother.  For  nearly  twenty  years  they 
have  put  off  the  post  mortem  examination  of  Mr. 
James,  because  they  knew  that  his  mother  would 
feel  wretched  and  gloomy  when  she  saw  her  son 
with  his  vitals  in  one  market  basket,  and  his 
vertebrae  in  another.  The  American  people  hate 
like  sin  to  step  in  between  a  mother  and  her  child, 
and  create  unpleasant  sensations. 

Mr.  Pinkerton  was  the  most  considerate.  At 
first  he  said  he  would  hold  an  autopsy  on  Mr. 
James  right  away,  but  it  .consumed  so  much  time 
holding  autopsies  on  his  detectives,  that  he  post- 
poned Jesse's  post  mortem  for  a  long  time.  He 
also  hoped  that  after  the  lapse  of  years,  may  be, 
Mr.  James  would  become  enfeebled  so  that  he 
could  steal  up  behind  him,  some  night,  and  stun 
him  with  a  Chicago  pie ;  but  Jesse  seemed  vigor- 
ous, up  to  a  late  date,  and  out  of  respect  for  his 
aged  mother,  the  Chicago  sleuth  hounds  of  justice 
have  spared  him. 

Detectives  are  sometimes  considered  hard- 
hearted and  unloving  in  their  natures,  but  this  is 


BUSINESS  LETTERS. 


317 


not  the  case.  Yery  few  of  them  can  bear  to 
witness  the  shedding  of  blood,  especially  their 
own  blood.  Sometimes  they  find  it  necessary  to 
kill  a  man  in  order  to  restore  peace  to  the  country, 
but  they  very  rarely  kill  a  man  like  James.  This 
is  partly  due  to  the  fact  that  they  hate  to  cut  a 
man  like  that  right  down,  before  he  has  a  chance 
to  repent.  They  are  prone  to  give  him  probation, 
and  yet  another  chance  to  turn.  Still,  there  are 
lots  of  mean,  harsh,  unthinking  people  who  do 
not  give  the  detectives  credit  for  this. 


BUSINESS  LETTEKS. 


A  LL  business  letters,  as  a  rule,  demand  some 
-LJl-  kind  of  an  answer,  especially  those  contain- 
ing money.  To  neglect  the  reply  to  a  letter  is  an 
insult,  unless  the  letter  failed  to  contain  a  stamp. 
In  your  reply,  first  acknowledge  the  receipt  of 
the  letter,  then  the  receipt  of  the  monev. 
whatever  it  is. 

Letters  asking  for  money  or  the  payment  of  a 
bill,  may  be  postponed  from  time  to  time  if  neces- 
sary. No  man  should  reply  to  such  a  letter  while 
angry.  If  the  amount  is  small  and  you  are 
moderacely  hot,  wait  two  days.    If  the  sum  is 


318 


BALED  HAY. 


quite  large  and  you  are  tempted  to  write  an 
insulting  letter,  wait  two  weeks,  or  until  you  have 
thoroughly  cooled  down. 

Business  letters  should  be  written  on  plain,  neat 
paper,  with  your  name  and  business  neatly  printed 
at  the  top  by  the  Boomerang  job  printer. 

Letters  from  railroad  companies  referring  to 
important  improvements,  etc.,  etc.,  should  contain 
pass,  not  for  publication,  but  as  a  guarantee  of 
good  faith. 

Neat  and  beautiful  penmanship  is  very  desir- 
able in  business  correspondence,  but  it  is  most 
important  that  you  should  not  spell  God  with  a 
little  g  or  codfish  with  a  k.  Ornamental  penman- 
ship is  good,  but  it  will  not  take  the  cuss  off  if 
you  don't  know  how  to  spell. 

Bead  your  letter  over  carefully  after  you  have 
written  it,  if  you  can;  if  not,  send  it  with  an 
apology  about  the  rush  of  business. 

In  ordering  goods,  state  whether  you  will  remit 
soon  or  whether  the  account  should  be  placed  in 
the  refrigerator. 


DA^GEE  OF  GAKDElSTI^G. 


ACOLOKADO  book  agent  writes  us  about 
as  follows: 

"  For  some  time  past  it  has  been  my  desire  to 
insure  my  life  for  the  benefit  of  my  family,  but  1 
knew  the  public  sentiment  so  well  that  I  feared  it 
could  not  be  done.  I  knew  that  there  was  a  deep 
and  bitter  enmity  against  book  agents,  which  I 
found  had  pervaded  the  insurance  world  to  such 
an  extent  that  I  would  be  unable  to  obtain 
insurance  at  a  reasonable  premium. 

"The  popular  belief  is  that  book  agents  are 
shot  on  sight  and  their  mangled  bodies  thrown 
into  the  tall  grass  or  fed  to  the  coyotes. 

"  I  found,  however,  that  I  could  get  my  life 
insured  for  two  thousand  dollars  by  paying  a 
premium  of  twelve  dollars  per  year,  as  a  book 
agent.  This  was  far  better  than  anything  1  had 
ever  looked  for.  The  question  arose  <as  to 
whether  I  worked  in  my  garden  or  not,  and  I 
was  forced  to  admit  that  I  did.  It  ought  to 
reduce  the  premium  if  a  man  works  in  his  garden, 
and  thus,  by  short  periods  of  vigorous  exercise, 
prolongs  his  life,  but  it  don't  seem  to  be  that  way. 
They  charged  me  an  additional  three  dollars  on 
319 


320 


BALED  HAY. 


the  premium,  because  I  toiled  a  little  among  my 
pet  rutabagas. 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  theory  is  about  this 
matter.  Perhaps  the  company  labors  under  the 
impression  that  a  thousand-legged  worm  might 
crawl  into  my  ear  and  kill  me,  or  a  purple-top 
turnip  might  explode  and  knock  my  brains  out. 

"  Of  course,  in  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death, 
but  I  always  used  to  think  I  was  safer  mashing 
my  squash-bugs  and  hoeing  my  blue-eyed  beans 
than  when  I  was  on  the  road,  dodging  bulldogs 
and  selling  books. 

"  Perhaps  some  amateur  gardener,  in  a  careless 
moment,  at  some  time  or  other,  has  been  stabbed 
in  the  diaphragm  by  a  murderous  radish,  or  a 
watermelon  may  have  stolen  up  to  some  man,  in 
years  gone  by,  and  brained  him  with  part  of  a 
picket  fence.  There  must  be  statistics  somewhere 
by  which  the  insurance  companies  have  arrived 
at  this  high  rate  on  gardeners.  If  you  know  any- 
thing of  this  matter,  I  wish  you  would  write  me, 
for  if  hoeing  sweet  corn  and  cultivating'  string 
beans  is  going  to  sock  me  into  an  early  grave  I 
want  to  know  it." 


